This is a modern-English version of Paradise Regained, originally written by Milton, John.
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Paradise Regained
by John Milton
Contents
| THE FIRST BOOK |
| THE SECOND BOOK |
| THE THIRD BOOK |
| THE FOURTH BOOK |
THE FIRST BOOK
I, who erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man’s disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
By one man’s firm obedience fully tried
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.
Thou Spirit, who led’st this glorious Eremite
Into the desert, his victorious field
Against the spiritual foe, and brought’st him thence 10
By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,
And bear through highth or depth of Nature’s bounds,
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven’s kingdom nigh at hand 20
To all baptized. To his great baptism flocked
With awe the regions round, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed
To the flood Jordan—came as then obscure,
Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soon
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore
As to his worthier, and would have resigned
To him his heavenly office. Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: on him baptized
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove 30
The Spirit descended, while the Father’s voice
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still
About the world, at that assembly famed
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom
Such high attest was given a while surveyed
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air
To council summons all his mighty Peers, 40
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World
(For much more willingly I mention Air,
This our old conquest, than remember Hell,
Our hated habitation), well ye know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed, and ruled
In manner at our will the affairs of Earth, 50
Since Adam and his facile consort Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
With dread attending when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Delay, for longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
This dreaded time have compassed, wherein we
Must bide the stroke of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if so we can, and by the head 60
Broken be not intended all our power
To be infringed, our freedom and our being
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this ill news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined to this, is late of woman born.
His birth to our just fear gave no small cause;
But his growth now to youth’s full flower, displaying
All virtue, grace and wisdom to achieve
Things highest, greatest, multiplies my fear.
Before him a great Prophet, to proclaim 70
His coming, is sent harbinger, who all
Invites, and in the consecrated stream
Pretends to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To do him honour as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not thence to be more pure, but to receive
The testimony of Heaven, that who he is
Thenceforth the nations may not doubt. I saw
The Prophet do him reverence; on him, rising 80
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Unfold her crystal doors; thence on his head
A perfet Dove descend (whate’er it meant);
And out of Heaven the sovraign voice I heard,
‘This is my Son beloved,—in him am pleased.’
His mother, than, is mortal, but his Sire
He who obtains the monarchy of Heaven;
And what will He not do to advance his Son?
His first-begot we know, and sore have felt,
When his fierce thunder drove us to the Deep; 90
Who this is we must learn, for Man he seems
In all his lineaments, though in his face
The glimpses of his Father’s glory shine.
Ye see our danger on the utmost edge
Of hazard, which admits no long debate,
But must with something sudden be opposed
(Not force, but well-couched fraud, well-woven snares),
Ere in the head of nations he appear,
Their king, their leader, and supreme on Earth.
I, when no other durst, sole undertook 100
The dismal expedition to find out
And ruin Adam, and the exploit performed
Successfully: a calmer voyage now
Will waft me; and the way found prosperous once
Induces best to hope of like success.”
He ended, and his words impression left
Of much amazement to the infernal crew,
Distracted and surprised with deep dismay
At these sad tidings. But no time was then
For long indulgence to their fears or grief: 110
Unanimous they all commit the care
And management of this man enterprise
To him, their great Dictator, whose attempt
At first against mankind so well had thrived
In Adam’s overthrow, and led their march
From Hell’s deep-vaulted den to dwell in light,
Regents, and potentates, and kings, yea gods,
Of many a pleasant realm and province wide.
So to the coast of Jordan he directs
His easy steps, girded with snaky wiles, 120
Where he might likeliest find this new-declared,
This man of men, attested Son of God,
Temptation and all guile on him to try—
So to subvert whom he suspected raised
To end his reign on Earth so long enjoyed:
But, contrary, unweeting he fulfilled
The purposed counsel, pre-ordained and fixed,
Of the Most High, who, in full frequence bright
Of Angels, thus to Gabriel smiling spake:—
“Gabriel, this day, by proof, thou shalt behold, 130
Thou and all Angels conversant on Earth
With Man or men’s affairs, how I begin
To verify that solemn message late,
On which I sent thee to the Virgin pure
In Galilee, that she should bear a son,
Great in renown, and called the Son of God.
Then told’st her, doubting how these things could be
To her a virgin, that on her should come
The Holy Ghost, and the power of the Highest
O’ershadow her. This Man, born and now upgrown, 140
To shew him worthy of his birth divine
And high prediction, henceforth I expose
To Satan; let him tempt, and now assay
His utmost subtlety, because he boasts
And vaunts of his great cunning to the throng
Of his Apostasy. He might have learnt
Less overweening, since he failed in Job,
Whose constant perseverance overcame
Whate’er his cruel malice could invent.
He now shall know I can produce a man, 150
Of female seed, far abler to resist
All his solicitations, and at length
All his vast force, and drive him back to Hell—
Winning by conquest what the first man lost
By fallacy surprised. But first I mean
To exercise him in the Wilderness;
There he shall first lay down the rudiments
Of his great warfare, ere I send him forth
To conquer Sin and Death, the two grand foes.
By humiliation and strong sufferance 160
His weakness shall o’ercome Satanic strength,
And all the world, and mass of sinful flesh;
That all the Angels and aethereal Powers—
They now, and men hereafter—may discern
From what consummate virtue I have chose
This perfet man, by merit called my Son,
To earn salvation for the sons of men.”
So spake the Eternal Father, and all Heaven
Admiring stood a space; then into hymns
Burst forth, and in celestial measures moved, 170
Circling the throne and singing, while the hand
Sung with the voice, and this the argument:—
“Victory and triumph to the Son of God,
Now entering his great duel, not of arms,
But to vanquish by wisdom hellish wiles!
The Father knows the Son; therefore secure
Ventures his filial virtue, though untried,
Against whate’er may tempt, whate’er seduce,
Allure, or terrify, or undermine.
Be frustrate, all ye stratagems of Hell, 180
And, devilish machinations, come to nought!”
So they in Heaven their odes and vigils tuned.
Meanwhile the Son of God, who yet some days
Lodged in Bethabara, where John baptized,
Musing and much revolving in his breast
How best the mighty work he might begin
Of Saviour to mankind, and which way first
Publish his godlike office now mature,
One day forth walked alone, the Spirit leading
And his deep thoughts, the better to converse 190
With solitude, till, far from track of men,
Thought following thought, and step by step led on,
He entered now the bordering Desert wild,
And, with dark shades and rocks environed round,
His holy meditations thus pursued:—
“O what a multitude of thoughts at once
Awakened in me swarm, while I consider
What from within I feel myself, and hear
What from without comes often to my ears,
Ill sorting with my present state compared! 200
When I was yet a child, no childish play
To me was pleasing; all my mind was set
Serious to learn and know, and thence to do,
What might be public good; myself I thought
Born to that end, born to promote all truth,
All righteous things. Therefore, above my years,
The Law of God I read, and found it sweet;
Made it my whole delight, and in it grew
To such perfection that, ere yet my age
Had measured twice six years, at our great Feast 210
I went into the Temple, there to hear
The teachers of our Law, and to propose
What might improve my knowledge or their own,
And was admired by all. Yet this not all
To which my spirit aspired. Victorious deeds
Flamed in my heart, heroic acts—one while
To rescue Israel from the Roman yoke;
Then to subdue and quell, o’er all the earth,
Brute violence and proud tyrannic power,
Till truth were freed, and equity restored: 220
Yet held it more humane, more heavenly, first
By winning words to conquer willing hearts,
And make persuasion do the work of fear;
At least to try, and teach the erring soul,
Not wilfully misdoing, but unware
Misled; the stubborn only to subdue.
These growing thoughts my mother soon perceiving,
By words at times cast forth, inly rejoiced,
And said to me apart, ‘High are thy thoughts,
O Son! but nourish them, and let them soar 230
To what highth sacred virtue and true worth
Can raise them, though above example high;
By matchless deeds express thy matchless Sire.
For know, thou art no son of mortal man;
Though men esteem thee low of parentage,
Thy Father is the Eternal King who rules
All Heaven and Earth, Angels and sons of men.
A messenger from God foretold thy birth
Conceived in me a virgin; he foretold
Thou shouldst be great, and sit on David’s throne, 240
And of thy kingdom there should be no end.
At thy nativity a glorious quire
Of Angels, in the fields of Bethlehem, sung
To shepherds, watching at their folds by night,
And told them the Messiah now was born,
Where they might see him; and to thee they came,
Directed to the manger where thou lay’st;
For in the inn was left no better room.
A Star, not seen before, in heaven appearing,
Guided the Wise Men thither from the East, 250
To honour thee with incense, myrrh, and gold;
By whose bright course led on they found the place,
Affirming it thy star, new-graven in heaven,
By which they knew thee King of Israel born.
Just Simeon and prophetic Anna, warned
By vision, found thee in the Temple, and spake,
Before the altar and the vested priest,
Like things of thee to all that present stood.’
This having heart, straight I again revolved
The Law and Prophets, searching what was writ 260
Concerning the Messiah, to our scribes
Known partly, and soon found of whom they spake
I am—this chiefly, that my way must lie
Through many a hard assay, even to the death,
Ere I the promised kingdom can attain,
Or work redemption for mankind, whose sins’
Full weight must be transferred upon my head.
Yet, neither thus disheartened or dismayed,
The time prefixed I waited; when behold
The Baptist (of whose birth I oft had heard, 270
Not knew by sight) now come, who was to come
Before Messiah, and his way prepare!
I, as all others, to his baptism came,
Which I believed was from above; but he
Straight knew me, and with loudest voice proclaimed
Me him (for it was shewn him so from Heaven)—
Me him whose harbinger he was; and first
Refused on me his baptism to confer,
As much his greater, and was hardly won.
But, as I rose out of the laving stream, 280
Heaven opened her eternal doors, from whence
The Spirit descended on me like a Dove;
And last, the sum of all, my Father’s voice,
Audibly heard from Heaven, pronounced me his,
Me his beloved Son, in whom alone
He was well pleased: by which I knew the time
Now full, that I no more should live obscure,
But openly begin, as best becomes
The authority which I derived from Heaven.
And now by some strong motion I am led 290
Into this wilderness; to what intent
I learn not yet. Perhaps I need not know;
For what concerns my knowledge God reveals.”
So spake our Morning Star, then in his rise,
And, looking round, on every side beheld
A pathless desert, dusk with horrid shades.
The way he came, not having marked return,
Was difficult, by human steps untrod;
And he still on was led, but with such thoughts
Accompanied of things past and to come 300
Lodged in his breast as well might recommend
Such solitude before choicest society.
Full forty days he passed—whether on hill
Sometimes, anon in shady vale, each night
Under the covert of some ancient oak
Or cedar to defend him from the dew,
Or harboured in one cave, is not revealed;
Nor tasted human food, nor hunger felt,
Till those days ended; hungered then at last
Among wild beasts. They at his sight grew mild, 310
Nor sleeping him nor waking harmed; his walk
The fiery serpent fled and noxious worm;
The lion and fierce tiger glared aloof.
But now an aged man in rural weeds,
Following, as seemed, the quest of some stray eye,
Or withered sticks to gather, which might serve
Against a winter’s day, when winds blow keen,
To warm him wet returned from field at eve,
He saw approach; who first with curious eye
Perused him, then with words thus uttered spake:— 320
“Sir, what ill chance hath brought thee to this place,
So far from path or road of men, who pass
In troop or caravan? for single none
Durst ever, who returned, and dropt not here
His carcass, pined with hunger and with droughth.
I ask the rather, and the more admire,
For that to me thou seem’st the man whom late
Our new baptizing Prophet at the ford
Of Jordan honoured so, and called thee Son
Of God. I saw and heard, for we sometimes 330
Who dwell this wild, constrained by want, come forth
To town or village nigh (nighest is far),
Where aught we hear, and curious are to hear,
What happens new; fame also finds us out.”
To whom the Son of God:—“Who brought me hither
Will bring me hence; no other guide I seek.”
“By miracle he may,” replied the swain;
“What other way I see not; for we here
Live on tough roots and stubs, to thirst inured
More than the camel, and to drink go far— 340
Men to much misery and hardship born.
But, if thou be the Son of God, command
That out of these hard stones be made thee bread;
So shalt thou save thyself, and us relieve
With food, whereof we wretched seldom taste.”
He ended, and the Son of God replied:—
“Think’st thou such force in bread? Is it not written
(For I discern thee other than thou seem’st),
Man lives not by bread only, but each word
Proceeding from the mouth of God, who fed 350
Our fathers here with manna? In the Mount
Moses was forty days, nor eat nor drank;
And forty days Eliah without food
Wandered this barren waste; the same I now.
Why dost thou, then, suggest to me distrust
Knowing who I am, as I know who thou art?”
Whom thus answered the Arch-Fiend, now undisguised:—
“’Tis true, I am that Spirit unfortunate
Who, leagued with millions more in rash revolt,
Kept not my happy station, but was driven 360
With them from bliss to the bottomless Deep—
Yet to that hideous place not so confined
By rigour unconniving but that oft,
Leaving my dolorous prison, I enjoy
Large liberty to round this globe of Earth,
Or range in the Air; nor from the Heaven of Heavens
Hath he excluded my resort sometimes.
I came, among the Sons of God, when he
Gave up into my hands Uzzean Job,
To prove him, and illustrate his high worth; 370
And, when to all his Angels he proposed
To draw the proud king Ahab into fraud,
That he might fall in Ramoth, they demurring,
I undertook that office, and the tongues
Of all his flattering prophets glibbed with lies
To his destruction, as I had in charge:
For what he bids I do. Though I have lost
Much lustre of my native brightness, lost
To be beloved of God, I have not lost
To love, at least contemplate and admire, 380
What I see excellent in good, or fair,
Or virtuous; I should so have lost all sense.
What can be then less in me than desire
To see thee and approach thee, whom I know
Declared the Son of God, to hear attent
Thy wisdom, and behold thy godlike deeds?
Men generally think me much a foe
To all mankind. Why should I? they to me
Never did wrong or violence. By them
I lost not what I lost; rather by them 390
I gained what I have gained, and with them dwell
Copartner in these regions of the World,
If not disposer—lend them oft my aid,
Oft my advice by presages and signs,
And answers, oracles, portents, and dreams,
Whereby they may direct their future life.
Envy, they say, excites me, thus to gain
Companions of my misery and woe!
At first it may be; but, long since with woe
Nearer acquainted, now I feel by proof 400
That fellowship in pain divides not smart,
Nor lightens aught each man’s peculiar load;
Small consolation, then, were Man adjoined.
This wounds me most (what can it less?) that Man,
Man fallen, shall be restored, I never more.”
To whom our Saviour sternly thus replied:—
“Deservedly thou griev’st, composed of lies
From the beginning, and in lies wilt end,
Who boast’st release from Hell, and leave to come
Into the Heaven of Heavens. Thou com’st, indeed, 410
As a poor miserable captive thrall
Comes to the place where he before had sat
Among the prime in splendour, now deposed,
Ejected, emptied, gazed, unpitied, shunned,
A spectacle of ruin, or of scorn,
To all the host of Heaven. The happy place
Imparts to thee no happiness, no joy—
Rather inflames thy torment, representing
Lost bliss, to thee no more communicable;
So never more in Hell than when in Heaven. 420
But thou art serviceable to Heaven’s King!
Wilt thou impute to obedience what thy fear
Extorts, or pleasure to do ill excites?
What but thy malice moved thee to misdeem
Of righteous Job, then cruelly to afflict him
With all inflictions? but his patience won.
The other service was thy chosen task,
To be a liar in four hundred mouths;
For lying is thy sustenance, thy food.
Yet thou pretend’st to truth! all oracles 430
By thee are given, and what confessed more true
Among the nations? That hath been thy craft,
By mixing somewhat true to vent more lies.
But what have been thy answers? what but dark,
Ambiguous, and with double sense deluding,
Which they who asked have seldom understood,
And, not well understood, as good not known?
Who ever, by consulting at thy shrine,
Returned the wiser, or the more instruct
To fly or follow what concerned him most, 440
And run not sooner to his fatal snare?
For God hath justly given the nations up
To thy delusions; justly, since they fell
Idolatrous. But, when his purpose is
Among them to declare his providence,
To thee not known, whence hast thou then thy truth,
But from him, or his Angels president
In every province, who, themselves disdaining
To approach thy temples, give thee in command
What, to the smallest tittle, thou shalt say 450
To thy adorers? Thou, with trembling fear,
Or like a fawning parasite, obey’st;
Then to thyself ascrib’st the truth foretold.
But this thy glory shall be soon retrenched;
No more shalt thou by oracling abuse
The Gentiles; henceforth oracles are ceased,
And thou no more with pomp and sacrifice
Shalt be enquired at Delphos or elsewhere—
At least in vain, for they shall find thee mute.
God hath now sent his living Oracle 460
Into the world to teach his final will,
And sends his Spirit of Truth henceforth to dwell
In pious hearts, an inward oracle
To all truth requisite for men to know.”
So spake our Saviour; but the subtle Fiend,
Though inly stung with anger and disdain,
Dissembled, and this answer smooth returned:—
“Sharply thou hast insisted on rebuke,
And urged me hard with doings which not will,
But misery, hath wrested from me. Where 470
Easily canst thou find one miserable,
And not inforced oft-times to part from truth,
If it may stand him more in stead to lie,
Say and unsay, feign, flatter, or abjure?
But thou art placed above me; thou art Lord;
From thee I can, and must, submiss, endure
Cheek or reproof, and glad to scape so quit.
Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk,
Smooth on the tongue discoursed, pleasing to the ear,
And tunable as sylvan pipe or song; 480
What wonder, then, if I delight to hear
Her dictates from thy mouth? most men admire
Virtue who follow not her lore. Permit me
To hear thee when I come (since no man comes),
And talk at least, though I despair to attain.
Thy Father, who is holy, wise, and pure,
Suffers the hypocrite or atheous priest
To tread his sacred courts, and minister
About his altar, handling holy things,
Praying or vowing, and voutsafed his voice 490
To Balaam reprobate, a prophet yet
Inspired: disdain not such access to me.”
To whom our Saviour, with unaltered brow:—
“Thy coming hither, though I know thy scope,
I bid not, or forbid. Do as thou find’st
Permission from above; thou canst not more.”
He added not; and Satan, bowling low
His gray dissimulation, disappeared,
Into thin air diffused: for now began
Night with her sullen wing to double-shade 500
The desert; fowls in their clay nests were couched;
And now wild beasts came forth the woods to roam.
I, who once sang of the happy Garden,
By one man’s disobedience lost it, now sing
Of Paradise regained for all mankind,
By one man’s steadfast obedience tested
Through all temptation, and the Tempter defeated
In all his tricks, thwarted and pushed back,
And Eden restored in the desolate Wilderness.
You Spirit, who led this glorious hermit
Into the desert, his victorious battleground
Against the spiritual enemy, and brought him back
As proof of the undeniable Son of God, inspire,
As you usually do, my inspired song, or else let me be silent,
And carry through the heights or depths of Nature’s boundaries,
With successful wings fully summed, to tell of deeds
Above the heroic, though done in secret,
And left unrecorded through many ages:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
Now the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awe-inspiring than the sound of a trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven’s kingdom is near at hand
To all baptized. To his great baptism gathered
With awe the regions around, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph, who was thought
To the Jordan River—came then as unknown,
Unmarked, unnoticed. But the Baptist soon
Recognized him, divinely warned, and bore witness
As to his worthier, and would have given over
His heavenly task to him. Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: upon him baptized
Heaven opened, and in the form of a Dove
The Spirit descended, while the Father’s voice
From Heaven declared him his beloved Son.
The Adversary heard this, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous gathering
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high acknowledgment was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and amongst them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things, multiplies my fear.
A great Prophet, sent to herald
His coming, is now the harbinger, who all
Calls to him, and in the consecrated stream
Claims to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To honor him as their King. All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not to be more pure, but to receive
Heaven’s testimony, so the nations may know
Who he is henceforth without doubt. I observed
The Prophet paying him respect; as he rose
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Opened her crystal doors; from there on his head
A perfect Dove descended (whatever it meant);
And from Heaven the sovereign voice I heard,
‘This is my beloved Son,—in him I am pleased.’
This was heard by the Adversary, who, still roaming
About the world, at that famous assembly
Would not be last, and, with the divine voice
Almost thunderstruck, the exalted man to whom
Such high praise was given briefly watched
With wonder; then, filled with envy and rage,
Flies to his place, and immediately,
In mid-air convenes all his mighty Peers,
Within thick, dark, and heavy clouds,
A gloomy assembly; and among them,
With astonished and sad faces, he spoke:—
“O ancient Powers of Air and this vast World
(For I’d rather refer to Air,
This old conquest of ours, than remember Hell,
Our despised dwelling), well you know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed and ruled
At our will over the affairs of Earth,
Since Adam and his easygoing companion Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
I’ve dreaded the moment when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head. Long the decrees of Heaven
Have delayed, for the longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
Have brought this dreaded time upon us,
Wherein we must endure the blow of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if we can, and by the head
Be not intended all our power
To be diminished, our freedom and our existence
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this bad news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined for this, has recently been born.
His birth gave our just fear no small cause;
But his growth now into youth, displaying
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve
The highest things
THE SECOND BOOK
Meanwhile the new-baptized, who yet remained
At Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen
Him whom they heard so late expressly called
Jesus Messiah, Son of God, declared,
And on that high authority had believed,
And with him talked, and with him lodged—I mean
Andrew and Simon, famous after known,
With others, though in Holy Writ not named—
Now missing him, their joy so lately found,
So lately found and so abruptly gone, 10
Began to doubt, and doubted many days,
And, as the days increased, increased their doubt.
Sometimes they thought he might be only shewn,
And for a time caught up to God, as once
Moses was in the Mount and missing long,
And the great Thisbite, who on fiery wheels
Rode up to Heaven, yet once again to come.
Therefore, as those young prophets then with care
Sought lost Eliah, so in each place these
Nigh to Bethabara—in Jericho 20
The city of palms, AEnon, and Salem old,
Machaerus, and each town or city walled
On this side the broad lake Genezaret,
Or in Peraea—but returned in vain.
Then on the bank of Jordan, by a creek,
Where winds with reeds and osiers whispering play,
Plain fishermen (no greater men them call),
Close in a cottage low together got,
Their unexpected loss and plaints outbreathed:—
“Alas, from what high hope to what relapse 30
Unlooked for are we fallen! Our eyes beheld
Messiah certainly now come, so long
Expected of our fathers; we have heard
His words, his wisdom full of grace and truth.
‘Now, now, for sure, deliverance is at hand;
The kingdom shall to Israel be restored:’
Thus we rejoiced, but soon our joy is turned
Into perplexity and new amaze.
For whither is he gone? what accident
Hath rapt him from us? will he now retire 40
After appearance, and again prolong
Our expectation? God of Israel,
Send thy Messiah forth; the time is come.
Behold the kings of the earth, how they oppress
Thy Chosen, to what highth their power unjust
They have exalted, and behind them cast
All fear of Thee; arise, and vindicate
Thy glory; free thy people from their yoke!
But let us wait; thus far He hath performed—
Sent his Anointed, and to us revealed him 50
By his great Prophet pointed at and shown
In public, and with him we have conversed.
Let us be glad of this, and all our fears
Lay on his providence; He will not fail,
Nor will withdraw him now, nor will recall—
Mock us with his blest sight, then snatch him hence:
Soon we shall see our hope, our joy, return.”
Thus they out of their plaints new hope resume
To find whom at the first they found unsought.
But to his mother Mary, when she saw 60
Others returned from baptism, not her Son,
Nor left at Jordan tidings of him none,
Within her breast though calm, her breast though pure,
Motherly cares and fears got head, and raised
Some troubled thoughts, which she in sighs thus clad:—
“Oh, what avails me now that honour high,
To have conceived of God, or that salute,
‘Hail, highly favoured, among women blest!’
While I to sorrows am no less advanced,
And fears as eminent above the lot 70
Of other women, by the birth I bore:
In such a season born, when scarce a shed
Could be obtained to shelter him or me
From the bleak air? A stable was our warmth,
A manger his; yet soon enforced to fly
Thence into Egypt, till the murderous king
Were dead, who sought his life, and, missing, filled
With infant blood the streets of Bethlehem.
From Egypt home returned, in Nazareth
Hath been our dwelling many years; his life 80
Private, unactive, calm, contemplative,
Little suspicious to any king. But now,
Full grown to man, acknowledged, as I hear,
By John the Baptist, and in public shewn,
Son owned from Heaven by his Father’s voice,
I looked for some great change. To honour? no;
But trouble, as old Simeon plain foretold,
That to the fall and rising he should be
Of many in Israel, and to a sign
Spoken against—that through my very soul 90
A sword shall pierce. This is my favoured lot,
My exaltation to afflictions high!
Afflicted I may be, it seems, and blest!
I will not argue that, nor will repine.
But where delays he now? Some great intent
Conceals him. When twelve years he scarce had seen,
I lost him, but so found as well I saw
He could not lose himself, but went about
His Father’s business. What he meant I mused—
Since understand; much more his absence now 100
Thus long to some great purpose he obscures.
But I to wait with patience am inured;
My heart hath been a storehouse long of things
And sayings laid up, pretending strange events.”
Thus Mary, pondering oft, and oft to mind
Recalling what remarkably had passed
Since first her Salutation heard, with thoughts
Meekly composed awaited the fulfilling:
The while her Son, tracing the desert wild,
Sole, but with holiest meditations fed, 110
Into himself descended, and at once
All his great work to come before him set—
How to begin, how to accomplish best
His end of being on Earth, and mission high.
For Satan, with sly preface to return,
Had left him vacant, and with speed was gone
Up to the middle region of thick air,
Where all his Potentates in council sate.
There, without sign of boast, or sign of joy,
Solicitous and blank, he thus began:— 120
“Princes, Heaven’s ancient Sons, AEthereal Thrones—
Daemonian Spirits now, from the element
Each of his reign allotted, rightlier called
Powers of Fire, Air, Water, and Earth beneath
(So may we hold our place and these mild seats
Without new trouble!)—such an enemy
Is risen to invade us, who no less
Threatens than our expulsion down to Hell.
I, as I undertook, and with the vote
Consenting in full frequence was impowered, 130
Have found him, viewed him, tasted him; but find
Far other labour to be undergone
Than when I dealt with Adam, first of men,
Though Adam by his wife’s allurement fell,
However to this Man inferior far—
If he be Man by mother’s side, at least
With more than human gifts from Heaven adorned,
Perfections absolute, graces divine,
And amplitude of mind to greatest deeds.
Therefore I am returned, lest confidence 140
Of my success with Eve in Paradise
Deceive ye to persuasion over-sure
Of like succeeding here. I summon all
Rather to be in readiness with hand
Or counsel to assist, lest I, who erst
Thought none my equal, now be overmatched.”
So spake the old Serpent, doubting, and from all
With clamour was assured their utmost aid
At his command; when from amidst them rose
Belial, the dissolutest Spirit that fell, 150
The sensualest, and, after Asmodai,
The fleshliest Incubus, and thus advised:—
“Set women in his eye and in his walk,
Among daughters of men the fairest found.
Many are in each region passing fair
As the noon sky, more like to goddesses
Than mortal creatures, graceful and discreet,
Expert in amorous arts, enchanting tongues
Persuasive, virgin majesty with mild
And sweet allayed, yet terrible to approach, 160
Skilled to retire, and in retiring draw
Hearts after them tangled in amorous nets.
Such object hath the power to soften and tame
Severest temper, smooth the rugged’st brow,
Enerve, and with voluptuous hope dissolve,
Draw out with credulous desire, and lead
At will the manliest, resolutest breast,
As the magnetic hardest iron draws.
Women, when nothing else, beguiled the heart
Of wisest Solomon, and made him build, 170
And made him bow, to the gods of his wives.”
To whom quick answer Satan thus returned:—
“Belial, in much uneven scale thou weigh’st
All others by thyself. Because of old
Thou thyself doat’st on womankind, admiring
Their shape, their colour, and attractive grace,
None are, thou think’st, but taken with such toys.
Before the Flood, thou, with thy lusty crew,
False titled Sons of God, roaming the Earth,
Cast wanton eyes on the daughters of men, 180
And coupled with them, and begot a race.
Have we not seen, or by relation heard,
In courts and regal chambers how thou lurk’st,
In wood or grove, by mossy fountain-side,
In valley or green meadow, to waylay
Some beauty rare, Calisto, Clymene,
Daphne, or Semele, Antiopa,
Or Amymone, Syrinx, many more
Too long—then lay’st thy scapes on names adored,
Apollo, Neptune, Jupiter, or Pan, 190
Satyr, or Faun, or Silvan? But these haunts
Delight not all. Among the sons of men
How many have with a smile made small account
Of beauty and her lures, easily scorned
All her assaults, on worthier things intent!
Remember that Pellean conqueror,
A youth, how all the beauties of the East
He slightly viewed, and slightly overpassed;
How he surnamed of Africa dismissed,
In his prime youth, the fair Iberian maid. 200
For Solomon, he lived at ease, and, full
Of honour, wealth, high fare, aimed not beyond
Higher design than to enjoy his state;
Thence to the bait of women lay exposed.
But he whom we attempt is wiser far
Than Solomon, of more exalted mind,
Made and set wholly on the accomplishment
Of greatest things. What woman will you find,
Though of this age the wonder and the fame,
On whom his leisure will voutsafe an eye 210
Of fond desire? Or should she, confident,
As sitting queen adored on Beauty’s throne,
Descend with all her winning charms begirt
To enamour, as the zone of Venus once
Wrought that effect on Jove (so fables tell),
How would one look from his majestic brow,
Seated as on the top of Virtue’s hill,
Discountenance her despised, and put to rout
All her array, her female pride deject,
Or turn to reverent awe! For Beauty stands 220
In the admiration only of weak minds
Led captive; cease to admire, and all her plumes
Fall flat, and shrink into a trivial toy,
At every sudden slighting quite abashed.
Therefore with manlier objects we must try
His constancy—with such as have more shew
Of worth, of honour, glory, and popular praise
(Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wrecked);
Or that which only seems to satisfy
Lawful desires of nature, not beyond. 230
And now I know he hungers, where no food
Is to be found, in the wide Wilderness:
The rest commit to me; I shall let pass
No advantage, and his strength as oft assay.”
He ceased, and heard their grant in loud acclaim;
Then forthwith to him takes a chosen band
Of Spirits likest to himself in guile,
To be at hand and at his beck appear,
If cause were to unfold some active scene
Of various persons, each to know his part; 240
Then to the desert takes with these his flight,
Where still, from shade to shade, the Son of God,
After forty days’ fasting, had remained,
Now hungering first, and to himself thus said:—
“Where will this end? Four times ten days I have passed
Wandering this woody maze, and human food
Nor tasted, nor had appetite. That fast
To virtue I impute not, or count part
Of what I suffer here. If nature need not,
Or God support nature without repast, 250
Though needing, what praise is it to endure?
But now I feel I hunger; which declares
Nature hath need of what she asks. Yet God
Can satisfy that need some other way,
Though hunger still remain. So it remain
Without this body’s wasting, I content me,
And from the sting of famine fear no harm;
Nor mind it, fed with better thoughts, that feed
Me hungering more to do my Father’s will.”
It was the hour of night, when thus the Son 260
Communed in silent walk, then laid him down
Under the hospitable covert nigh
Of trees thick interwoven. There he slept,
And dreamed, as appetite is wont to dream,
Of meats and drinks, nature’s refreshment sweet.
Him thought he by the brook of Cherith stood,
And saw the ravens with their horny beaks
Food to Elijah bringing even and morn—
Though ravenous, taught to abstain from what they brought;
He saw the Prophet also, how he fled 270
Into the desert, and how there he slept
Under a juniper—then how, awaked,
He found his supper on the coals prepared,
And by the Angel was bid rise and eat,
And eat the second time after repose,
The strength whereof sufficed him forty days:
Sometimes that with Elijah he partook,
Or as a guest with Daniel at his pulse.
Thus wore out night; and now the harald Lark
Left his ground-nest, high towering to descry 280
The Morn’s approach, and greet her with his song.
As lightly from his grassy couch up rose
Our Saviour, and found all was but a dream;
Fasting he went to sleep, and fasting waked.
Up to a hill anon his steps he reared,
From whose high top to ken the prospect round,
If cottage were in view, sheep-cote, or herd;
But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw—
Only in a bottom saw a pleasant grove,
With chaunt of tuneful birds resounding loud. 290
Thither he bent his way, determined there
To rest at noon, and entered soon the shade
High-roofed, and walks beneath, and alleys brown,
That opened in the midst a woody scene;
Nature’s own work it seemed (Nature taught Art),
And, to a superstitious eye, the haunt
Of wood-gods and wood-nymphs. He viewed it round;
When suddenly a man before him stood,
Not rustic as before, but seemlier clad,
As one in city or court or palace bred, 300
And with fair speech these words to him addressed:—
“With granted leave officious I return,
But much more wonder that the Son of God
In this wild solitude so long should bide,
Of all things destitute, and, well I know,
Not without hunger. Others of some note,
As story tells, have trod this wilderness:
The fugitive Bond-woman, with her son,
Outcast Nebaioth, yet found here relief
By a providing Angel; all the race 310
Of Israel here had famished, had not God
Rained from heaven manna; and that Prophet bold,
Native of Thebez, wandering here, was fed
Twice by a voice inviting him to eat.
Of thee those forty days none hath regard,
Forty and more deserted here indeed.”
To whom thus Jesus:—“What conclud’st thou hence?
They all had need; I, as thou seest, have none.”
“How hast thou hunger then?” Satan replied.
“Tell me, if food were now before thee set, 320
Wouldst thou not eat?” “Thereafter as I like
the giver,” answered Jesus. “Why should that
Cause thy refusal?” said the subtle Fiend.
“Hast thou not right to all created things?
Owe not all creatures, by just right, to thee
Duty and service, nor to stay till bid,
But tender all their power? Nor mention I
Meats by the law unclean, or offered first
To idols—those young Daniel could refuse;
Nor proffered by an enemy—though who 330
Would scruple that, with want oppressed? Behold,
Nature ashamed, or, better to express,
Troubled, that thou shouldst hunger, hath purveyed
From all the elements her choicest store,
To treat thee as beseems, and as her Lord
With honour. Only deign to sit and eat.”
He spake no dream; for, as his words had end,
Our Saviour, lifting up his eyes, beheld,
In ample space under the broadest shade,
A table richly spread in regal mode, 340
With dishes piled and meats of noblest sort
And savour—beasts of chase, or fowl of game,
In pastry built, or from the spit, or boiled,
Grisamber-steamed; all fish, from sea or shore,
Freshet or purling brook, of shell or fin,
And exquisitest name, for which was drained
Pontus, and Lucrine bay, and Afric coast.
Alas! how simple, to these cates compared,
Was that crude Apple that diverted Eve!
And at a stately sideboard, by the wine, 350
That fragrant smell diffused, in order stood
Tall stripling youths rich-clad, of fairer hue
Than Ganymed or Hylas; distant more,
Under the trees now tripped, now solemn stood,
Nymphs of Diana’s train, and Naiades
With fruits and flowers from Amalthea’s horn,
And ladies of the Hesperides, that seemed
Fairer than feigned of old, or fabled since
Of faery damsels met in forest wide
By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, 360
Lancelot, or Pelleas, or Pellenore.
And all the while harmonious airs were heard
Of chiming strings or charming pipes; and winds
Of gentlest gale Arabian odours fanned
From their soft wings, and Flora’s earliest smells.
Such was the splendour; and the Tempter now
His invitation earnestly renewed:—
“What doubts the Son of God to sit and eat?
These are not fruits forbidden; no interdict
Defends the touching of these viands pure; 370
Their taste no knowledge works, at least of evil,
But life preserves, destroys life’s enemy,
Hunger, with sweet restorative delight.
All these are Spirits of air, and woods, and springs,
Thy gentle ministers, who come to pay
Thee homage, and acknowledge thee their Lord.
What doubt’st thou, Son of God? Sit down and eat.”
To whom thus Jesus temperately replied:—
“Said’st thou not that to all things I had right?
And who withholds my power that right to use? 380
Shall I receive by gift what of my own,
When and where likes me best, I can command?
I can at will, doubt not, as soon as thou,
Command a table in this wilderness,
And call swift flights of Angels ministrant,
Arrayed in glory, on my cup to attend:
Why shouldst thou, then, obtrude this diligence
In vain, where no acceptance it can find?
And with my hunger what hast thou to do?
Thy pompous delicacies I contemn, 390
And count thy specious gifts no gifts, but guiles.”
To whom thus answered Satan, male-content:—
“That I have also power to give thou seest;
If of that power I bring thee voluntary
What I might have bestowed on whom I pleased,
And rather opportunely in this place
Chose to impart to thy apparent need,
Why shouldst thou not accept it? But I see
What I can do or offer is suspect.
Of these things others quickly will dispose, 400
Whose pains have earned the far-fet spoil.” With that
Both table and provision vanished quite,
With sound of harpies’ wings and talons heard;
Only the importune Tempter still remained,
And with these words his temptation pursued:—
“By hunger, that each other creature tames,
Thou art not to be harmed, therefore not moved;
Thy temperance, invincible besides,
For no allurement yields to appetite;
And all thy heart is set on high designs, 410
High actions. But wherewith to be achieved?
Great acts require great means of enterprise;
Thou art unknown, unfriended, low of birth,
A carpenter thy father known, thyself
Bred up in poverty and straits at home,
Lost in a desert here and hunger-bit.
Which way, or from what hope, dost thou aspire
To greatness? whence authority deriv’st?
What followers, what retinue canst thou gain,
Or at thy heels the dizzy multitude, 420
Longer than thou canst feed them on thy cost?
Money brings honour, friends, conquest, and realms.
What raised Antipater the Edomite,
And his son Herod placed on Juda’s throne,
Thy throne, but gold, that got him puissant friends?
Therefore, if at great things thou wouldst arrive,
Get riches first, get wealth, and treasure heap—
Not difficult, if thou hearken to me.
Riches are mine, fortune is in my hand;
They whom I favour thrive in wealth amain, 430
While virtue, valour, wisdom, sit in want.”
To whom thus Jesus patiently replied:—
“Yet wealth without these three is impotent
To gain dominion, or to keep it gained—
Witness those ancient empires of the earth,
In highth of all their flowing wealth dissolved;
But men endued with these have oft attained,
In lowest poverty, to highest deeds—
Gideon, and Jephtha, and the shepherd lad
Whose offspring on the throne of Juda sate 440
So many ages, and shall yet regain
That seat, and reign in Israel without end.
Among the Heathen (for throughout the world
To me is not unknown what hath been done
Worthy of memorial) canst thou not remember
Quintius, Fabricius, Curius, Regulus?
For I esteem those names of men so poor,
Who could do mighty things, and could contemn
Riches, though offered from the hand of kings.
And what in me seems wanting but that I 450
May also in this poverty as soon
Accomplish what they did, perhaps and more?
Extol not riches, then, the toil of fools,
The wise man’s cumbrance, if not snare; more apt
To slacken virtue and abate her edge
Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise.
What if with like aversion I reject
Riches and realms! Yet not for that a crown,
Golden in shew, is but a wreath of thorns,
Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights, 460
To him who wears the regal diadem,
When on his shoulders each man’s burden lies;
For therein stands the office of a king,
His honour, virtue, merit, and chief praise,
That for the public all this weight he bears.
Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules
Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king—
Which every wise and virtuous man attains;
And who attains not, ill aspires to rule
Cities of men, or headstrong multitudes, 470
Subject himself to anarchy within,
Or lawless passions in him, which he serves.
But to guide nations in the way of truth
By saving doctrine, and from error lead
To know, and, knowing, worship God aright,
Is yet more kingly. This attracts the soul,
Governs the inner man, the nobler part;
That other o’er the body only reigns,
And oft by force—which to a generous mind
So reigning can be no sincere delight. 480
Besides, to give a kingdom hath been thought
Greater and nobler done, and to lay down
Far more magnanimous, than to assume.
Riches are needless, then, both for themselves,
And for thy reason why they should be sought—
To gain a sceptre, oftest better missed.”
Meanwhile, those who were newly baptized, who still stayed
At the Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen
Him who they had just heard identified
As Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God, declared,
And on that high authority had believed,
And talked with him, and shared lodging—I mean
Andrew and Simon, later to become famous,
Along with others who are not named in Scripture—
Now, missing him, their joy, which was so recently found,
So recently found and so suddenly gone,
Began to doubt, and doubted many days,
And as the days went on, their doubt only grew.
Sometimes they thought he might be just off somewhere,
And for a time caught up to God, like Moses
Was on the mountain and gone for a long time,
And the great Elijah, who rode to Heaven
On fiery wheels, but would come again once more.
So, like those young prophets then who carefully
Sought out lost Elijah, they searched in every place
Near Bethabara—in Jericho,
The city of palms, AEnon, and old Salem,
Machaerus, and every walled town
On this side of the broad lake of Genezaret,
Or in Peraea—but returned in vain.
Then, on the bank of Jordan, by a creek,
Where the wind plays with reeds and willows,
Common fishermen (don’t call them anything more),
Gathered closely in a low cottage,
Speaking out their unexpected loss and complaints:
“Alas, from such high hopes to such a fall
Unforeseen we have stumbled! Our eyes beheld
The Messiah finally arrived, who was long
Expected by our fathers; we have heard
His words, overflowing with grace and truth.
‘Now, now, deliverance is at hand;
The kingdom will once again belong to Israel.’
Thus we rejoiced, but soon our joy has turned
Into confusion and new amazement.
For where has he gone? What incident
Has taken him away from us? Will he retreat
After this appearance, prolonging
Our anticipation? God of Israel,
Send your Messiah forth; the time is here.
Look at the kings of the earth, how they oppress
Your Chosen People, to what heights their unjust power
They have raised, casting behind them
All fear of You; arise, and uphold
Your glory; free your people from their yoke!
But let us wait; up to now He has done—
Sent his Anointed, and revealed him to us
Through his great Prophet, shown publicly,
And with him, we have conversed.
Let us take comfort in this, and all our fears
Leave to his providence; He will not fail,
Nor will he withdraw now, or take him back—
Tease us with his blessed sight, then whisk him away:
Soon we shall see our hope, our joy, return.”
Thus they took up new hope from their complaints
To find whom at first they found unexpectedly.
But to his mother Mary, when she saw
Others returning from baptism, not her Son,
Nor any news left at Jordan about him,
Within her calm breast, though pure and tranquil,
Motherly worries and fears took hold, raising
Some troubled thoughts, which she sighed:—
“Oh, what good is this high honor,
To have conceived of God, or that salute,
‘Hail, blessed among women!’
While I am no less advanced to sorrows,
And fears as great as those
Of other women, due to the birth I bore:
In such a time, born when hardly a shed
Could be found to shelter him or me
From the harsh air? A stable was our warmth,
A manger his; yet we were soon forced to flee
Into Egypt, till the murderous king
Was dead, who sought his life, and, missing, filled
With infant blood the streets of Bethlehem.
Back from Egypt, home again, in Nazareth
We have dwelt for many years; his life
Was private, inactive, calm, contemplative,
Hardly raising suspicion from any king. But now,
Fully grown, acknowledged, as I hear,
By John the Baptist, and shown in public,
Confirmed from Heaven by his Father’s voice,
I was expecting some major change. To honor? No;
But trouble, as old Simeon plainly foretold,
That he should cause the fall and rise
Of many in Israel, and become a sign
Spoken against—that through my very soul
A sword shall pierce. This is my favored lot,
My elevation to great afflictions!
Afflicted I may be, it seems, and blessed!
I will not argue or complain about that.
But where is he now? Some great purpose
Hides him away. When he was only twelve,
I lost him, but found him well enough, realizing
He could not lose himself, but was about
His Father’s business. What he meant I pondered—
Now I understand; his absence now
Seems long, hiding a great intention.
But I have learned to wait with patience;
My heart has been a storehouse for long of things
And sayings laid up, predicting strange events.”
Thus Mary, often pondering, and often recalling
What had remarkably passed
Since she first heard her Salutation, with thoughts
Humbly composed awaited the fulfillment:
Meanwhile, her Son, wandering the wild desert,
Alone, but fed by the holiest meditations,
Went deep within himself, and at once
Set before him all his great work yet to come—
How to start, how to best accomplish
His goal on Earth, and high mission.
For Satan, with a sly plan to return,
Had left him alone, and hastily went
Up to the middle air, thick with smoke,
Where all his powerful followers were in council.
There, without any sign of boasting or joy,
Concerned and blank, he began:—
“Princes, ancient Sons of Heaven, Ethereal Thrones—
Spirits now, from their elements,
Each to his own realm, rightly named
Powers of Fire, Air, Water, and Earth beneath
(So we may hold our place and these gentle seats
Without new trouble!)—such an enemy
Has risen to invade us, who not only
Threatens our expulsion down to Hell.
I, as I promised, and with the full consent
Of their vote, have found him, seen him, tasted him; but I find
Far greater labor ahead
Than when I dealt with Adam, the first man,
Though Adam fell by his wife’s temptation,
This Man, however, is obviously far superior—
If he is Man by his mother’s side, at least
With more than human gifts from Heaven,
Absolute perfections, divine graces,
And a mind fully capable of the greatest deeds.
Thus I have returned, lest confidence
From my success with Eve in Paradise
Mislead you into unwarranted assurance
Of succeeding here. I call upon you all
To be ready with hands
Or counsel to support, lest I, who once thought
None my equal, now be outmatched.”
So spoke the old Serpent, in doubt, and from all
With noise was assured their utmost aid
At his command; when from among them rose
Belial, the most wicked Spirit that fell,
The most sensual, and, next to Asmodai,
The fleshliest Incubus, who advised:—
“Set beautiful women in his sight and path,
Among the daughters of men, the fairest found.
Many in each region are remarkably fair,
Like the noon sky, more like goddesses
Than mortal creatures, graceful and discreet,
Skilled in the art of love, with enchanting voices
Persuasive, of virgin majesty with timidity
And sweetness, yet terrible to approach,
Skilled in retreat, and while retreating draw
Hearts after them, tangled in love’s nets.
Such an image has the power to soften and tame
The harshest demeanor, smooth the roughest brow,
Weaken, and with tempting hope dissolve,
Entice with naive desire, and lead
Even the strongest, most determined heart,
Like iron drawn by a magnet.
Women, when nothing else works, beguiled the heart
Of wise Solomon, and made him build,
And made him bow, to the gods of his wives.”
To whom quick-witted Satan replied:—
“Belial, you weigh all others against
Yourself unevenly. Because, in the past,
You yourself were enamored with women, admiring
Their shapes, colors, and attractive graces,
You think none are immune to such distractions.
Before the Flood, you and your lustful crew,
False-labeled Sons of God, roaming the Earth,
Cast lustful eyes on the daughters of men,
And coupled with them, producing a race.
Have we not seen, or heard it mentioned,
In courts and royal chambers how you lurk,
In woods or groves, by mossy fountains,
In valleys or green meadows, laying in wait
For some rare beauty—Calisto, Clymene,
Daphne, or Semele, Antiopa,
Or Amymone, Syrinx, many others,
Too numerous to mention—then lay claim to names adored,
Apollo, Neptune, Jupiter, or Pan,
Satyr, or Faun, or Silvan? But these haunts
Do not appeal to everyone. Among the sons of men,
How many have looked with disdain upon
Beauty and her lures, easily scorned
All her advances, focused on worthier things!
Remember the Pellean conqueror,
A young man, how he viewed all the beauties of the East
With indifference and resistance;
How he rejected the fair Iberian maid.
For Solomon, he lived luxuriously, full
Of honor, wealth, fine fare, and aimed no further
Than to enjoy his status;
From there he fell for the temptations of women.
But he whom we are attempting is far wiser
Than Solomon, of a more elevated mind,
Fully committed to completing
The greatest tasks. What woman will you find,
Though of this age she is the wonder and the fame,
On whom his leisure would graciously
Bestow an eye of affection? Or should she, confidently,
As a queen adored on Beauty’s throne,
Come down with all her enticing charms,
To seduce him like the Zone of Venus once
Did to Jove (as fables tell),
How would he cast a glance from his majestic brow,
Seated atop Virtue’s hill,
Disdain her scorned, and rout her
All her company, her female pride brought low,
Or turn her into reverent awe! For Beauty stands
Only in the admiration of weak minds
Led astray; cease to admire, and all her adornments
Fall flat, shrink into trivial trinkets,
Startled and ashamed at every sudden dismissal.
Thus, we must try his constancy with manlier objects—
With those possessing more worth,
Honor, glory, and public acclaim
(Rocks whereon the greatest men often wrecked);
Or what only seems able to satisfy
Lawful desires of nature, nothing more.
And now I know he is hungry, where there is no food
To be found, in the vast Wilderness:
The rest leave to me; I won't let pass
Any opportunity, and will often test his strength.”
He finished, and heard their assent in loud agreement;
Then immediately he took a chosen group
Of Spirits most like himself in craftiness,
To be ready at his bidding,
If the occasion arose for some active scene
With various persons, each knowing his role;
Then he took flight to the desert with his band,
Where, still moving from shade to shade, the Son of God,
After forty days of fasting, had remained,
Now hungering for the first time, and to himself said:—
“Where will this end? Four times ten days have passed
Wandering this wooded maze, and human food
Neither tasted nor craved. That fast
I do not attribute to virtue, or count it part
Of my suffering here. If nature does not need,
Or God supports nature without food,
Though needing, what merit is there in enduring?
But now I feel hunger, which indicates
Nature requires what it asks for. Yet God
Can still meet that need in other ways,
Though hunger remains. So it remains
Without this body wasting away, I am content,
And from the sting of hunger fear no harm;
Nor mind it, fed with better thoughts, which keep
Me hungering more to do my Father’s will.”
It was nighttime when the Son
Walked in silence, then laid down
Beneath the welcoming cover of
Thick interwoven trees. There he slept,
And dreamed, as hunger often dreams,
Of food and drink, nature’s sweet refreshment.
He thought he stood by the brook of Cherith,
And saw the ravens with their harsh beaks
Bringing food to Elijah at evening and morning—
Though ravenous, taught to abstain from what they delivered;
He also saw the Prophet, how he fled
Into the desert, and how he slept
Under a juniper—then, waking,
He found his supper arranged on the coals,
And was told by an Angel to rise and eat,
And eat a second time after resting,
The strength from which lasted him forty days:
Sometimes he shared that food with Elijah,
Or as a guest with Daniel at his vegetables.
Thus the night wore on; and now the lark
Left his nest on the ground, soaring high to announce
The approach of Morning with his song.
As lightly from his grassy bed he arose,
Our Savior, and found all was just a dream;
Fasting he slept, and fasting awoke.
Up to a hill soon he climbed,
From whose height to view the surrounding landscape,
If any cottage, sheepfold, or herd were in sight;
But he saw no cottage, herd, or sheepfold—
Only in a hollow saw a lovely grove,
With the songs of tuneful birds reverberating loudly.
There he directed his journey, determined there
To rest at noon, and entered quickly into the shade
Of high roofs, and pathways beneath, and alleyways of brown,
That opened into a wooded scene;
Nature’s own work it seemed (Nature taught Art),
And, to a superstitious eye, the haunt
Of wood-gods and wood-nymphs. He looked around;
When suddenly a man stood before him,
Not rustic as before, but more suitably dressed,
Like one bred in the city, court, or palace,
And with fair speech these words addressed to him:—
“With your permission, I return dutifully,
But much more I wonder why the Son of God
Should remain in this wild solitude so long,
Destitute of everything and, well I know,
Not without hunger. Others of some note,
As history tells, have walked this wilderness:
The runaway bondwoman, with her son,
The outcast Nebaioth, found relief here
By a providing Angel; the entire race
Of Israel would have starved, had not God
Rained down manna from heaven; and that bold prophet,
Native of Thebez, wandered here and was fed
Twice by a voice urging him to eat.
Yet of you, those forty days none has cared,
Forty days and more, deserted here indeed.”
To whom Jesus replied:—“What do you conclude from this?
They all had need; I, as you see, have none.”
“How then do you hunger?” Satan asked.
“Tell me, if food was set before you now,
Would you not eat?” “Only as I like
The giver,” Jesus answered. “Why should that
Cause your refusal?” said the sly Fiend.
“Haven’t you right to all created things?
Don’t all creatures owe you,
Duty and service, not to wait until asked,
But willingly give all their power? Nor do I mention
Foods deemed unclean by the law, or offered first
To idols—those young Daniel could refuse;
Nor offered by an enemy—though who
Would hesitate when in need? Behold,
Nature ashamed, or, to express better,
Troubled, that you should hunger, has prepared
From all the elements her finest stores,
To treat you appropriately, as her Lord
With respect. Just sit down and eat.”
He spoke no fantasy; for, as his words concluded,
Our Savior, lifting up his eyes, beheld,
In ample space under the broadest shade,
A table richly set in royal fashion,
With dishes piled high and the finest meats
And flavors—game or fowl,
Baked in pastry, or from the spit, or boiled,
Grisamber-steamed; all fish, from sea or shore,
Fresh or flowing brook, of shell or fin,
And of exquisite name, for which came drained
Pontus, and Lucrine bay, and the coast of Africa.
Alas! how simple, compared to these dishes,
Was that crude Apple that led Eve astray!
And at a stately sideboard, beside the wine,
That fragrant aroma spread, stood in order
Tall, youthful servants richly clothed, of fairer hue
Than Ganymede or Hylas; further away,
Under the trees were the nymphs of Diana’s train,
And Naiades
With fruits and flowers from Amalthea’s horn,
And the ladies of the Hesperides, who seemed
Fairer than those of old tales, or fables since
Of fairy damsels met in wild forest
By knights of Logres, or of Lyones,
Lancelot, or Pelleas, or Pellenore.
And all the while harmonious sounds were heard
Of chiming strings or charming pipes; and the breezes
Of the gentlest gust, Arabian scents blowing
From their soft wings, and Flora’s earliest smells.
Such was the splendor; and the Tempter now
Earnestly renewed his invitation:—
“What does the Son of God doubt to sit and eat?
These are not forbidden fruits; no prohibition
Prevents touching these pure dishes;
Their taste does not deliver knowledge of evil,
But preserves life, destroys life’s enemy,
Hunger, with sweet restorative delight.
All these are Spirits of air, and woods, and springs,
Your gentle ministers, who come to pay
You homage, and acknowledge you as their Lord.
What do you doubt, Son of God? Sit down and eat.”
To this Jesus replied temperately:—
“Did you not say that I had right to all things?
And who withholds my power to use that right?
Shall I accept by gift what of my own,
When and where I like, I can command?
I can at will, don’t doubt, just as quickly as you,
Command a table in this wilderness,
And call swift flights of Angels to serve me,
Dressed in glory, to attend my needs:
Why then, should you impose this insistence
In vain, where no acceptance it could find?
And with my hunger what do you have to do?
Your extravagant delicacies I disdain,
And count your deceptive gifts not gifts, but traps.”
To whom Satan answered, resentfully:—
“That I have power to give you can see;
If with that power I bring you willingly
What I might have given to whom I pleased,
And rather opportunely here in this place
Chose to present to your obvious need,
Why should you not accept it? But I see
You suspect what I can do or offer.
Others will quickly take what I have found,
Those whose efforts earned the distant spoils.” With that,
Both table and provisions vanished away,
With the sound of harpies’ wings and claws heard;
Only the importunate Tempter remained,
And with these words continued his temptation:—
“By hunger, that tames every other creature,
You remain unharmed, thus not moved;
Your temperance, invincible otherwise,
For no temptation yields to appetite;
And all your heart is set on high aims,
Great actions. But how will they be achieved?
Great acts demand great means of undertaking;
You are unknown, friendless, lowly born,
A carpenter your father known, you yourself
Brought up in poverty and straits at home,
Lost in a desert here and hungry.
Which way, or from what hope, do you aspire
To greatness? From where do you draw authority?
What followers, what retinue can you gather,
Or at your heels the dizzy crowd,
Longer than you can feed them at your cost?
Money brings honor, friends, conquest, and realms.
What raised Antipater the Edomite,
And his son Herod placed on Juda’s throne,
Your throne, but gold, which secured him powerful friends?
Therefore, if you would arrive at great things,
Get riches first, accumulate wealth and treasure—
Not hard, if you listen to me.
Riches are mine, fortune is in my hands;
Those I favor prosper in wealth immensely,
While virtue, valor, wisdom, are left wanting.”
To whom Jesus replied patiently:—
“Yet wealth without these three is powerless
To gain dominion, or to maintain it once gained—
Witness those ancient empires of the earth,
At the height of all their overflowing wealth dissolved;
But those endowed with these have often achieved,
In utmost poverty, the highest deeds—
Gideon, Jephtha, and the shepherd boy
Whose offspring has sat on the throne of Judah
For so many ages, and shall yet regain
That seat, and reign in Israel endlessly.
Among the Gentiles (for I know well what’s been done
Worthy of remembrance) can you not recall
Quintius, Fabricius, Curius, Regulus?
For I hold those names of men so poor,
Who could perform great things, and could scorn
Wealth, though offered from the hands of kings.
And what in me seems lacking but that I
May also in this poverty as soon
Accomplish what they did, maybe even more?
Don’t praise riches, then, the toil of fools,
The wise man’s burden, if not a trap; more likely
To dull virtue and blunt her edge
Than prompt her to perform anything praiseworthy.
What if, with equal disdain, I reject
Riches and realms! Yet not for that a crown,
Golden in appearance, is more than a wreath of thorns,
Bringing dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights,
To him who wears the royal diadem,
When on his shoulders lies every man’s burden;
For therein lies the duty of a king,
His honor, virtue, merit, and chief praise,
That for the public all this weight he bears.
Yet he who reigns within himself, and controls
His passions, desires, and fears, is more a king—
Which every wise and virtuous man can achieve;
And who does not achieve that, poorly aspires to rule
Cities of men, or defiant crowds,
Submitting himself to chaos within,
Or lawless passions in him, which he serves.
But to guide nations in the way of truth
By saving doctrine, and lead them from error
To know, and knowing, worship God correctly,
Is yet more kingly. This attracts the soul,
Governs the inner man, the nobler part;
That other holds sway only over the body,
And often by force—which to a generous mind
Is no sincere delight at all.
Besides, giving a kingdom has been thought
Greater and more noble to do, and to renounce
Far more magnanimous than to assume.
Riches then, are unnecessary, both for themselves,
And for your reason why they should be sought—
To gain a scepter is most often better missed.”
THE THIRD BOOK
So spake the Son of God; and Satan stood
A while as mute, confounded what to say,
What to reply, confuted and convinced
Of his weak arguing and fallacious drift;
At length, collecting all his serpent wiles,
With soothing words renewed, him thus accosts:—
“I see thou know’st what is of use to know,
What best to say canst say, to do canst do;
Thy actions to thy words accord; thy words
To thy large heart give utterance due; thy heart 10
Contains of good, wise, just, the perfet shape.
Should kings and nations from thy mouth consult,
Thy counsel would be as the oracle
Urim and Thummim, those oraculous gems
On Aaron’s breast, or tongue of Seers old
Infallible; or, wert thou sought to deeds
That might require the array of war, thy skill
Of conduct would be such that all the world
Could not sustain thy prowess, or subsist
In battle, though against thy few in arms. 20
These godlike virtues wherefore dost thou hide?
Affecting private life, or more obscure
In savage wilderness, wherefore deprive
All Earth her wonder at thy acts, thyself
The fame and glory—glory, the reward
That sole excites to high attempts the flame
Of most erected spirits, most tempered pure
AEthereal, who all pleasures else despise,
All treasures and all gain esteem as dross,
And dignities and powers, all but the highest? 30
Thy years are ripe, and over-ripe. The son
Of Macedonian Philip had ere these
Won Asia, and the throne of Cyrus held
At his dispose; young Scipio had brought down
The Carthaginian pride; young Pompey quelled
The Pontic king, and in triumph had rode.
Yet years, and to ripe years judgment mature,
Quench not the thirst of glory, but augment.
Great Julius, whom now all the world admires,
The more he grew in years, the more inflamed 40
With glory, wept that he had lived so long
Ingloroious. But thou yet art not too late.”
To whom our Saviour calmly thus replied:—
“Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth
For empire’s sake, nor empire to affect
For glory’s sake, by all thy argument.
For what is glory but the blaze of fame,
The people’s praise, if always praise unmixed?
And what the people but a herd confused,
A miscellaneous rabble, who extol 50
Things vulgar, and, well weighed, scarce worth the praise?
They praise and they admire they know not what,
And know not whom, but as one leads the other;
And what delight to be by such extolled,
To live upon their tongues, and be their talk?
Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise—
His lot who dares be singularly good.
The intelligent among them and the wise
Are few, and glory scarce of few is raised.
This is true glory and renown—when God, 60
Looking on the Earth, with approbation marks
The just man, and divulges him through Heaven
To all his Angels, who with true applause
Recount his praises. Thus he did to Job,
When, to extend his fame through Heaven and Earth,
As thou to thy reproach may’st well remember,
He asked thee, ‘Hast thou seen my servant Job?’
Famous he was in Heaven; on Earth less known,
Where glory is false glory, attributed
To things not glorious, men not worthy of fame. 70
They err who count it glorious to subdue
By conquest far and wide, to overrun
Large countries, and in field great battles win,
Great cities by assault. What do these worthies
But rob and spoil, burn, slaughter, and enslave
Peaceable nations, neighbouring or remote,
Made captive, yet deserving freedom more
Than those their conquerors, who leave behind
Nothing but ruin wheresoe’er they rove,
And all the flourishing works of peace destroy; 80
Then swell with pride, and must be titled Gods,
Great benefactors of mankind, Deliverers,
Worshipped with temple, priest, and sacrifice?
One is the son of Jove, of Mars the other;
Till conqueror Death discover them scarce men,
Rowling in brutish vices, and deformed,
Violent or shameful death their due reward.
But, if there be in glory aught of good;
It may be means far different be attained,
Without ambition, war, or violence— 90
By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent,
By patience, temperance. I mention still
Him whom thy wrongs, with saintly patience borne,
Made famous in a land and times obscure;
Who names not now with honour patient Job?
Poor Socrates, (who next more memorable?)
By what he taught and suffered for so doing,
For truth’s sake suffering death unjust, lives now
Equal in fame to proudest conquerors.
Yet, if for fame and glory aught be done, 100
Aught suffered—if young African for fame
His wasted country freed from Punic rage—
The deed becomes unpraised, the man at least,
And loses, though but verbal, his reward.
Shall I seek glory, then, as vain men seek,
Oft not deserved? I seek not mine, but His
Who sent me, and thereby witness whence I am.”
To whom the Tempter, murmuring, thus replied:—
“Think not so slight of glory, therein least
Resembling thy great Father. He seeks glory, 110
And for his glory all things made, all things
Orders and governs; nor content in Heaven,
By all his Angels glorified, requires
Glory from men, from all men, good or bad,
Wise or unwise, no difference, no exemption.
Above all sacrifice, or hallowed gift,
Glory he requires, and glory he receives,
Promiscuous from all nations, Jew, or Greek,
Or Barbarous, nor exception hath declared;
From us, his foes pronounced, glory he exacts.” 120
To whom our Saviour fervently replied:
“And reason; since his Word all things produced,
Though chiefly not for glory as prime end,
But to shew forth his goodness, and impart
His good communicable to every soul
Freely; of whom what could He less expect
Than glory and benediction—that is, thanks—
The slightest, easiest, readiest recompense
From them who could return him nothing else,
And, not returning that, would likeliest render 130
Contempt instead, dishonour, obloquy?
Hard recompense, unsuitable return
For so much good, so much beneficience!
But why should man seek glory, who of his own
Hath nothing, and to whom nothing belongs
But condemnation, ignominy, and shame—
Who, for so many benefits received,
Turned recreant to God, ingrate and false,
And so of all true good himself despoiled;
Yet, sacrilegious, to himself would take 140
That which to God alone of right belongs?
Yet so much bounty is in God, such grace,
That who advances his glory, not their own,
Them he himself to glory will advance.”
So spake the Son of God; and here again
Satan had not to answer, but stood struck
With guilt of his own sin—for he himself,
Insatiable of glory, had lost all;
Yet of another plea bethought him soon:—
“Of glory, as thou wilt,” said he, “so deem; 150
Worth or not worth the seeking, let it pass.
But to a Kingdom thou art born—ordained
To sit upon thy father David’s throne,
By mother’s side thy father, though thy right
Be now in powerful hands, that will not part
Easily from possession won with arms.
Judaea now and all the Promised Land,
Reduced a province under Roman yoke,
Obeys Tiberius, nor is always ruled
With temperate sway: oft have they violated 160
The Temple, oft the Law, with foul affronts,
Abominations rather, as did once
Antiochus. And think’st thou to regain
Thy right by sitting still, or thus retiring?
So did not Machabeus. He indeed
Retired unto the Desert, but with arms;
And o’er a mighty king so oft prevailed
That by strong hand his family obtained,
Though priests, the crown, and David’s throne usurped,
With Modin and her suburbs once content. 170
If kingdom move thee not, let move thee zeal
And duty—zeal and duty are not slow,
But on Occasion’s forelock watchful wait:
They themselves rather are occasion best—
Zeal of thy Father’s house, duty to free
Thy country from her heathen servitude.
So shalt thou best fulfil, best verify,
The Prophets old, who sung thy endless reign—
The happier reign the sooner it begins.
Rein then; what canst thou better do the while?” 180
To whom our Saviour answer thus returned:—
“All things are best fulfilled in their due time;
And time there is for all things, Truth hath said.
If of my reign Prophetic Writ hath told
That it shall never end, so, when begin
The Father in his purpose hath decreed—
He in whose hand all times and seasons rowl.
What if he hath decreed that I shall first
Be tried in humble state, and things adverse,
By tribulations, injuries, insults, 190
Contempts, and scorns, and snares, and violence,
Suffering, abstaining, quietly expecting
Without distrust or doubt, that He may know
What I can suffer, how obey? Who best
Can suffer best can do, best reign who first
Well hath obeyed—just trial ere I merit
My exaltation without change or end.
But what concerns it thee when I begin
My everlasting Kingdom? Why art thou
Solicitous? What moves thy inquisition? 200
Know’st thou not that my rising is thy fall,
And my promotion will be thy destruction?”
To whom the Tempter, inly racked, replied:—
“Let that come when it comes. All hope is lost
Of my reception into grace; what worse?
For where no hope is left is left no fear.
If there be worse, the expectation more
Of worse torments me than the feeling can.
I would be at the worst; worst is my port,
My harbour, and my ultimate repose, 210
The end I would attain, my final good.
My error was my error, and my crime
My crime; whatever, for itself condemned,
And will alike be punished, whether thou
Reign or reign not—though to that gentle brow
Willingly I could fly, and hope thy reign,
From that placid aspect and meek regard,
Rather than aggravate my evil state,
Would stand between me and thy Father’s ire
(Whose ire I dread more than the fire of Hell) 220
A shelter and a kind of shading cool
Interposition, as a summer’s cloud.
If I, then, to the worst that can be haste,
Why move thy feet so slow to what is best?
Happiest, both to thyself and all the world,
That thou, who worthiest art, shouldst be their King!
Perhaps thou linger’st in deep thoughts detained
Of the enterprise so hazardous and high!
No wonder; for, though in thee be united
What of perfection can in Man be found, 230
Or human nature can receive, consider
Thy life hath yet been private, most part spent
At home, scarce viewed the Galilean towns,
And once a year Jerusalem, few days’
Short sojourn; and what thence couldst thou observe?
The world thou hast not seen, much less her glory,
Empires, and monarchs, and their radiant courts—
Best school of best experience, quickest in sight
In all things that to greatest actions lead.
The wisest, unexperienced, will be ever 240
Timorous, and loth, with novice modesty
(As he who, seeking asses, found a kingdom)
Irresolute, unhardy, unadventrous.
But I will bring thee where thou soon shalt quit
Those rudiments, and see before thine eyes
The monarchies of the Earth, their pomp and state—
Sufficient introduction to inform
Thee, of thyself so apt, in regal arts,
And regal mysteries; that thou may’st know
How best their opposition to withstand.” 250
With that (such power was given him then), he took
The Son of God up to a mountain high.
It was a mountain at whose verdant feet
A spacious plain outstretched in circuit wide
Lay pleasant; from his side two rivers flowed,
The one winding, the other straight, and left between
Fair champaign, with less rivers interveined,
Then meeting joined their tribute to the sea.
Fertil of corn the glebe, of oil, and wine;
With herds the pasture thronged, with flocks the hills; 260
Huge cities and high-towered, that well might seem
The seats of mightiest monarchs; and so large
The prospect was that here and there was room
For barren desert, fountainless and dry.
To this high mountain-top the Tempter brought
Our Saviour, and new train of words began:—
“Well have we speeded, and o’er hill and dale,
Forest, and field, and flood, temples and towers,
Cut shorter many a league. Here thou behold’st
Assyria, and her empire’s ancient bounds, 270
Araxes and the Caspian lake; thence on
As far as Indus east, Euphrates west,
And oft beyond; to south the Persian bay,
And, inaccessible, the Arabian drouth:
Here, Nineveh, of length within her wall
Several days’ journey, built by Ninus old,
Of that first golden monarchy the seat,
And seat of Salmanassar, whose success
Israel in long captivity still mourns;
There Babylon, the wonder of all tongues, 280
As ancient, but rebuilt by him who twice
Judah and all thy father David’s house
Led captive, and Jerusalem laid waste,
Till Cyrus set them free; Persepolis,
His city, there thou seest, and Bactra there;
Ecbatana her structure vast there shews,
And Hecatompylos her hunderd gates;
There Susa by Choaspes, amber stream,
The drink of none but kings; of later fame,
Built by Emathian or by Parthian hands, 290
The great Seleucia, Nisibis, and there
Artaxata, Teredon, Ctesiphon,
Turning with easy eye, thou may’st behold.
All these the Parthian (now some ages past
By great Arsaces led, who founded first
That empire) under his dominion holds,
From the luxurious kings of Antioch won.
And just in time thou com’st to have a view
Of his great power; for now the Parthian king
In Ctesiphon hath gathered all his host 300
Against the Scythian, whose incursions wild
Have wasted Sogdiana; to her aid
He marches now in haste. See, though from far,
His thousands, in what martial equipage
They issue forth, steel bows and shafts their arms,
Of equal dread in flight or in pursuit—
All horsemen, in which fight they most excel;
See how in warlike muster they appear,
In rhombs, and wedges, and half-moons, and wings.”
He looked, and saw what numbers numberless 310
The city gates outpoured, light-armed troops
In coats of mail and military pride.
In mail their horses clad, yet fleet and strong,
Prauncing their riders bore, the flower and choice
Of many provinces from bound to bound—
From Arachosia, from Candaor east,
And Margiana, to the Hyrcanian cliffs
Of Caucasus, and dark Iberian dales;
From Atropatia, and the neighbouring plains
Of Adiabene, Media, and the south 320
Of Susiana, to Balsara’s haven.
He saw them in their forms of battle ranged,
How quick they wheeled, and flying behind them shot
Sharp sleet of arrowy showers against the face
Of their pursuers, and overcame by flight;
The field all iron cast a gleaming brown.
Nor wanted clouds of foot, nor, on each horn,
Cuirassiers all in steel for standing fight,
Chariots, or elephants indorsed with towers
Of archers; nor of labouring pioners 330
A multitude, with spades and axes armed,
To lay hills plain, fell woods, or valleys fill,
Or where plain was raise hill, or overlay
With bridges rivers proud, as with a yoke:
Mules after these, camels and dromedaries,
And waggons fraught with utensils of war.
Such forces met not, nor so wide a camp,
When Agrican, with all his northern powers,
Besieged Albracea, as romances tell,
The city of Gallaphrone, from thence to win 340
The fairest of her sex, Angelica,
His daughter, sought by many prowest knights,
Both Paynim and the peers of Charlemane.
Such and so numerous was their chivalry;
At sight whereof the Fiend yet more presumed,
And to our Saviour thus his words renewed:—
“That thou may’st know I seek not to engage
Thy virtue, and not every way secure
On no slight grounds thy safety, hear and mark
To what end I have brought thee hither, and shew 350
All this fair sight. Thy kingdom, though foretold
By Prophet or by Angel, unless thou
Endeavour, as thy father David did,
Thou never shalt obtain: prediction still
In all things, and all men, supposes means;
Without means used, what it predicts revokes.
But say thou wert possessed of David’s throne
By free consent of all, none opposite,
Samaritan or Jew; how couldst thou hope
Long to enjoy it quiet and secure 360
Between two such enclosing enemies,
Roman and Parthian? Therefore one of these
Thou must make sure thy own: the Parthian first,
By my advice, as nearer, and of late
Found able by invasion to annoy
Thy country, and captive lead away her kings,
Antigonus and old Hyrcanus, bound,
Maugre the Roman. It shall be my task
To render thee the Parthian at dispose,
Choose which thou wilt, by conquest or by league. 370
By him thou shalt regain, without him not,
That which alone can truly reinstall thee
In David’s royal seat, his true successor—
Deliverance of thy brethren, those Ten Tribes
Whose offspring in his territory yet serve
In Habor, and among the Medes dispersed:
The sons of Jacob, two of Joseph, lost
Thus long from Israel, serving, as of old
Their fathers in the land of Egypt served,
This offer sets before thee to deliver. 380
These if from servitude thou shalt restore
To their inheritance, then, nor till then,
Thou on the throne of David in full glory,
From Egypt to Euphrates and beyond,
Shalt reign, and Rome or Caesar not need fear.”
To whom our Saviour answered thus, unmoved:—
“Much ostentation vain of fleshly arm
And fragile arms, much instrument of war,
Long in preparing, soon to nothing brought,
Before mine eyes thou hast set, and in my ear 390
Vented much policy, and projects deep
Of enemies, of aids, battles, and leagues,
Plausible to the world, to me worth naught.
Means I must use, thou say’st; prediction else
Will unpredict, and fail me of the throne!
My time, I told thee (and that time for thee
Were better farthest off), is not yet come.
When that comes, think not thou to find me slack
On my part aught endeavouring, or to need
Thy politic maxims, or that cumbersome 400
Luggage of war there shewn me—argument
Of human weakness rather than of strength.
My brethren, as thou call’st them, those Ten Tribes,
I must deliver, if I mean to reign
David’s true heir, and his full sceptre sway
To just extent over all Israel’s sons!
But whence to thee this zeal? Where was it then
For Israel, or for David, or his throne,
When thou stood’st up his tempter to the pride
Of numbering Israel—which cost the lives 410
of threescore and ten thousand Israelites
By three days’ pestilence? Such was thy zeal
To Israel then, the same that now to me.
As for those captive tribes, themselves were they
Who wrought their own captivity, fell off
From God to worship calves, the deities
Of Egypt, Baal next and Ashtaroth,
And all the idolatries of heathen round,
Besides their other worse than heathenish crimes;
Nor in the land of their captivity 420
Humbled themselves, or penitent besought
The God of their forefathers, but so died
Impenitent, and left a race behind
Like to themselves, distinguishable scarce
From Gentiles, but by circumcision vain,
And God with idols in their worship joined.
Should I of these the liberty regard,
Who, freed, as to their ancient patrimony,
Unhumbled, unrepentant, unreformed,
Headlong would follow, and to their gods perhaps 430
Of Bethel and of Dan? No; let them serve
Their enemies who serve idols with God.
Yet He at length, time to himself best known,
Remembering Abraham, by some wondrous call
May bring them back, repentant and sincere,
And at their passing cleave the Assyrian flood,
While to their native land with joy they haste,
As the Red Sea and Jordan once he cleft,
When to the Promised Land their fathers passed.
To his due time and providence I leave them.” 440
So spake Israel’s true King, and to the Fiend
Made answer meet, that made void all his wiles.
So fares it when with truth falsehood contends.
So spoke the Son of God; and Satan stood
For a moment in silence, trying to figure out what to say,
How to respond, defeated and convinced
By his own weak arguments and deceptive intent;
Finally, gathering all his serpent tricks,
With soothing words he addressed him:—
“I see you know what’s worth knowing,
What to say when it’s best to speak, and what
Actions match your words; your words
Rightly express your big heart; that heart 10
Contains perfect virtues of goodness, wisdom, and justice.
If kings and nations consulted you,
Your advice would be like an oracle,
Like the Urim and Thummim, those oracular gems
On Aaron’s breast, or the tongue of ancient seers
Infallible; or if you were sought for actions
Requiring the ability to lead in war,
Your skill in command would be so great that all the world
Could not withstand your might, even if they were many. 20
Why do you hide these godlike virtues?
Are you obsessed with private life, or more obscure,
In a savage wilderness? Why deny
The world the awe of your actions, and yourself
The fame and glory—glory, the reward
That solely inspires high aspirations in the most noble souls,
Those most pure and elevated, who disdain all other pleasures,
All treasures and gains as worthless,
And regard dignities and powers as lacking anything truly great? 30
You’re past the prime of your years. The son
Of Macedonian Philip had already
Conquered Asia and claimed the throne of Cyrus
To do with as he pleased; young Scipio had humbled
Carthaginian pride; young Pompey defeated
The Pontic king and had triumphed in a parade.
Yet age, and the wisdom that comes with it,
Doesn’t quench the thirst for glory, but intensifies it.
Great Julius, whom everyone admires,
The older he got, the more he felt the fire of glory, 40
Wept that he had lived so long
Without glory. But it’s not too late for you.”
To whom our Savior calmly replied:—
“You do not convince me to seek wealth
For the sake of empire, nor to desire the empire
Just for glory, with all your arguments.
For what is glory but the blaze of fame,
The praise of the people, if their praise is always pure?
And what are the people but a confused herd,
A varied mob that praises
Common things, and, if properly considered, is rarely worth the praise?
They praise and admire without knowing what,
And have no idea whom, but follow each other; 50
And what joy is there in being praised by such a crowd,
To be the talk of their tongues?
To be scorned by them would be no small praise—
For the one who dares to be uniquely good.
The wise and intelligent among them are few,
And glory is seldom raised for those few.
True glory and renown come when God, 60
Looking down upon the Earth, marks with approval
The just man, and proclaims him throughout Heaven
To all His Angels, who with true applause
Declare his praises. Thus he did with Job,
When, to magnify his fame through Heaven and Earth,
As you may well remember, he asked you, ‘Have you seen my servant Job?’
He was famous in Heaven; on Earth, less known,
Where glory is often false glory assigned
To things that aren’t glorious, people unworthy of fame.
They are mistaken who think it glorious to conquer
By widespread conquest, to overtake
Large nations, and win great battles in the field,
To take great cities by storm. What do these heroes
But rob and plunder, burn, slaughter, and enslave
Peaceful nations, near or far,
Made captive, but more deserving of freedom
Than those conquerors who leave behind
Nothing but ruin wherever they go,
And destroy all the flourishing works of peace;
Then swell with pride and must be called gods,
Great benefactors of humankind, deliverers,
Worshipped with temples, priests, and sacrifices?
One is the son of Jove, the other the son of Mars;
Until the conqueror Death reveals them to be hardly men,
Rolling in brutish vices and deformities,
A violent or shameful death their deserved punishment.
But if there is anything good in glory;
There may be means far different attained,
Without ambition, war, or violence— 90
Through peaceful deeds, by eminent wisdom,
By patience, temperance. I still mention
Him whom your wrongs, with saintly patience endured,
Made famous in a time and place obscure;
Who now does not honor patient Job?
Poor Socrates, who is more memorable?
By what he taught and suffered for it,
For truth’s sake suffering an unjust death, he now lives
Equal in fame to the proudest conquerors.
Yet, if anything is done for fame and glory, 100
Or anything suffered—if the young African freed
His ravaged country from the Punic rage for fame—
The deed becomes unappreciated, the person at least,
And loses, even if just verbally, his reward.
Should I seek glory, then, as vain men seek,
Often undeserved? I seek not mine, but His
Who sent me, and thus witness where I come from.”
To whom the Tempter, murmuring, replied:—
“Do not think so lightly of glory, therein least
Resembling your great Father. He seeks glory,
And for His glory made all things, orders and governs all things;
Not content in Heaven,
Where all His Angels glorify Him, He demands
Glory from men, from all men, good or bad,
Wise or unwise, no difference, no exception.
Above all sacrifices or sacred offerings,
He demands glory, and He receives glory,
From all nations, Jew or Greek,
Or barbarian, and no exemption has been declared;
From us, His proclaimed foes, He requires glory.” 120
To whom our Savior fervently responded:
“And rightly so; since His Word created all things,
Though chiefly not for glory as the main goal,
But to show forth His goodness, and share
His goodness with every soul freely;
What could He expect from them
But glory and thanks—that is, gratitude—
The simplest, easiest payment
From those who could give Him nothing else,
And, if they do not return even that, will likely repay
With scorn, dishonor, and disgrace?
A hard payment, an unworthy return
For so much good, so many benefits!
But why should man seek glory, who of his own
Has nothing, and to whom belongs only
Condemnation, disgrace, and shame—
Who, for so many received benefits,
Turned traitor to God, ungrateful and false,
And so stripped of all true good;
Yet should that sacrilegious spirit dare to take
What belongs only to God? 140
Yet there is so much kindness in God, such grace,
That those who promote His glory, not their own,
He Himself will raise to glory.”
So spoke the Son of God; and here again
Satan had no answer, but stood struck
With guilt for his own sin—for he himself,
Never satisfied with glory, had lost everything;
Yet soon thought of another argument:—
“Of glory, as you will,” he said, “think what you want; 150
Whether worth seeking or not, let it be.
But you are born for a Kingdom—ordained
To sit on your father David’s throne,
By your mother’s side your father, though your right
Is now in powerful hands, which will not easily part
With what they’ve won by force.
Judea now and all the promised land,
Reduced to a province under Roman control,
Obeys Tiberius, and is not always ruled
With gentle authority: they have often violated
The Temple, often disrespected the Law,
With foul offenses,
Abominations, as Antiochus did once.
And do you think you can regain
Your right by staying still, or by retreating?
So did not the Maccabees. He indeed
Retreated to the desert, but with weapons;
And against a mighty king prevailed so often
That by strong hand his family obtained,
Though priests, the crown, and David’s throne usurped,
With Modin and her suburbs once satisfied. 170
If a kingdom doesn’t move you, let zeal
And duty motivate you—zeal and duty are not slow,
But wait on Opportunity’s forelock:
They themselves are often best at creating occasion—
Zeal for your father’s house, duty to liberate
Your country from its pagan servitude.
That way you shall best fulfill, best verify,
The old Prophets, who sang your endless reign—
The happier reign the sooner it starts.
So reign; what better can you do in the meantime?” 180
To whom our Savior responded:—
“All things are best fulfilled in their proper time;
And there is a time for all things, as Truth has said.
If Prophetic Scripture has foretold
That my reign will never end, then when it begins
The Father in His purpose has decreed—
He who holds all times and seasons in His hands.
What if He has determined that I must first
Be tested in humble state, and face adversity,
Through tribulations, injuries, insults,
Contempt, scorn, traps, and violence,
Suffering, abstaining, quietly waiting
Without distrust or doubt, so that He may know
What I can endure, how I can obey? Who can best
Endure best can perform, and best reign who first
Has well obeyed—just testing before I deserve
My exaltation without change or end.
But what does it matter to you when I begin
My everlasting Kingdom? Why are you
Concerned? What prompts your inquiry? 200
Do you not know that my rising means your fall,
And my promotion will be your destruction?”
To whom the Tempter, deeply troubled, replied:—
“Let that come when it comes. All hope is lost
Of my acceptance into grace; what worse?
For where no hope remains, no fear remains.
If there is worse, the expectation of it
Torments me more than the experience can.
I would rather reach the worst; worst is my destination,
My harbor, and my ultimate rest, 210
The end I would achieve, my final good.
My error was my own, and my crime
Was mine; whatever condemned in itself,
It will be equally punished, whether you
Reign or do not reign—though to that gentle face
I would gladly fly, and hope your reign,
From that calm demeanor and mild gaze,
Rather than heighten my miserable state,
Would stand between me and your Father’s wrath
(Whose anger I fear more than Hell’s fire) 220
A shelter and a cool shade
Like a summer cloud.
If I, then, hurry towards the worst that can be,
Why do you move so slowly toward what is best?
It would be happiest, both for yourself and for the whole world,
That you, who deserve it most, should be their King!
Perhaps you linger, caught up in deep thoughts
About the undertaking—so hazardous and high!
No wonder; for, though within you is united
What perfection can be found in man, 230
Or what human nature can receive, consider
Your life has been mostly private, spent
At home; you’ve hardly seen the Galilean towns,
And once a year in Jerusalem, just a few days
Of short visits; and what could you observe from that?
You have not seen the world, much less its glory,
Empires, and monarchs, and their radiant courts—
The best school of the best experience, quickest in vision
In all things that lead to the greatest actions.
The wisest, unexperienced, will always be 240
Timid, hesitant, and reluctant, with novice modesty
(Like he who, seeking donkeys, found a kingdom)
Uncertain, cowardly, not adventurous.
But I will bring you where you will quickly abandon
Those beginner’s lessons, and see before your eyes
The monarchies of the Earth, their splendor and state—
A sufficient introduction to inform
You, of yourself so capable, in regal arts,
And royal mysteries; so you may know
How best to withstand their opposition.” 250
With that (such power was given him then), he took
The Son of God up to a high mountain.
It was a mountain at whose green foot
A vast plain stretched in a wide circuit
That lay pleasant; from its side flowed two rivers,
One winding, the other straight, and left between
Lovely fields, with lesser rivers intermingled,
Then meeting they joined their flow into the sea.
Fertile the soil, producing corn, oil, and wine;
With herds thronged in the fields, flocks on the hills; 260
Great cities, high-towered, that seemed
The seats of the mightiest monarchs; and so vast
The view was that here and there was room
For barren desert, without wells and dry.
To this high mountain-top the Tempter brought
Our Savior, and began a new speech:—
“Well have we traveled, and over hill and dale,
Forest, field, and flood, temples and towers,
Cut many leagues shorter. Here you see
Assyria, and its ancient empire’s borders, 270
The Araxes and the Caspian Sea; beyond
As far as the Indus in the east, Euphrates to the west,
And often beyond; to the south the Persian Gulf,
And, unreachable, the Arabian drought:
Here, Nineveh, several days’ journey within her walls,
Built by old Ninus,
The seat of that first golden monarchy,
And the seat of Salmanassar, whose success
Israel mourns in prolonged captivity;
There Babylon, the wonder of all tongues, 280
As ancient, but rebuilt by him who led
Judah and all your father David’s house
Captive, and laid waste Jerusalem,
Until Cyrus set them free; Persepolis,
His city, there you see, and Bactra there;
Ecbatana, with her vast structure there shows,
And Hecatompylos with her hundred gates;
There Susa by Choaspes, amber stream,
The drink of none but kings; of later fame,
Built by Emathian or Parthian hands, 290
The great Seleucia, Nisibis, and there
Artaxata, Teredon, Ctesiphon,
Turning your gaze, you may behold.
All these the Parthian (now a few ages past
By great Arsaces led, who first founded
That empire) holds under his rule,
Won from the luxury of Antioch’s kings.
And just in time you come to view
His great power; for now the Parthian king 300
In Ctesiphon has gathered all his army
Against the Scythian, whose wild incursions
Have ravaged Sogdiana; he marches forth eagerly
To her aid. Look, even from afar,
His thousands, in their martial gear
They issue forth, steel bows and arrows their weapons,
Equally fearsome in flight or pursuit—
All cavalry, in which they excel the most;
See how they appear in military formation,
In rhombuses, wedges, half-moons, and wings.”
He looked, and saw what seemed to be countless
The city gates pouring forth, light-armed troops
In shining armor and military pride.
In armor their horses were clad, yet swift and strong,
Proudly their riders bore, the finest and best
Of many provinces from border to border—
From Arachosia, from Candaor in the east,
And Margiana, to the Hyrcanian cliffs
Of the Caucasus, and shadowy Iberian valleys;
From Atropatia, and the plains nearby
Of Adiabene, Media, and the south 320
Of Susiana, to the haven of Balsara.
He saw them arrayed in battle formations,
How skillfully they wheeled, and shot behind them
A sharp sleet of arrows against the faces
Of their pursuers, and overcame by flight;
The field all iron cast a gleaming brown.
Nor did it lack swarms of infantry, nor, on each side,
Cavalry all in steel for defense,
Chariots, or elephants armed with towers
Of archers; nor a multitude of laborers 330
With shovels and axes in hand,
To level hills, fill in fallen woods or valleys,
Or where there was flat land raise a hill, or cover
With bridges proud rivers, as with a yoke:
Mules trailing after these, camels and dromedaries,
And wagons loaded with tools of war.
Such forces met not, nor such a wide camp,
When Agrican, with all his northern powers,
Besieged Albracea, as stories tell,
The city of Gallaphrone, to win from there 340
The fairest of her sex, Angelica,
His daughter, sought by many valiant knights,
Both Paynim and the peers of Charlemagne.
Such and so numerous was their chivalry;
At the sight of which the Fiend felt even more bold,
And to our Savior renewed his words:—
“That you may know I do not seek to challenge
Your virtue, and I don’t insecurely
Try to threaten your safety, listen and mark
To what end I have brought you here, and show 350
All this beautiful sight. Your kingdom, though foretold
By Prophet or by Angel, unless you
Endeavor, as your father David did,
You will never obtain: predictions in all things,
And all men, assume the means;
Without means employed, what it predicts is revoked.
But say you were to occupy David’s throne
By unanimous consent, none opposing,
Samaritan or Jew; how could you hope
To enjoy it peacefully and securely 360
Between two such surrounding enemies,
Roman and Parthian? Therefore, you must secure one of these
To make sure it’s yours: the Parthian first,
By my recommendation, as it’s closer, and recently
Proven able by invasion to trouble
Your country, and take captive her kings,
Antigonus and old Hyrcanus, bound,
Despite the Romans. It shall be my task
To render you the Parthian at your disposal,
Choose whichever you wish, by conquest or by alliance.
370
By him, you shall regain, without him not,
What alone can truly restore you
In David’s royal seat, his genuine successor—
The liberation of your brethren, those Ten Tribes
Whose descendants in his territory still serve
In Habor, and among the Medes scattered:
The sons of Jacob, two of Joseph, lost
For so long from Israel, serving, as of old
Their ancestors in Egypt did,
This offer sets before you to deliver. 380
These, if you restore from captivity
To their homeland, then, and only then,
You will sit on David’s throne in full glory,
From Egypt to Euphrates and beyond,
And shall have no fear of Rome or Caesar.”
To whom our Savior answered, unfazed:—
“Much vain ostentation of fleshly arm
And fragile weapons, much preparation for war,
Soon brought to nothing, you have placed before me,
And in my ear
You’ve uttered much policy, and deep schemes
Of enemies, of aids, battles, and leagues,
Plausible to the world, but worth nothing to me.
Means I must employ, you say; else prediction
Will predict nothing, and fail my claim to the throne!
My time, I told you (and that time for you
Would be better farthest off), has not yet come.
When that comes, do not think to find me at all
Slow on my part, not at all endeavoring, nor needing
Your political strategies, or that burdensome 400
Baggage of wars shown to me—an argument
Of human weakness rather than of strength.
My brethren, as you call them, those Ten Tribes,
I must deliver, if I wish to reign
As David’s true heir, and hold his full scepter
Fairly over all the sons of Israel!
But whence the zeal from you? Where was it then
For Israel, or for David, or his throne,
When you stood as his tempter for the pride
Of numbering Israel—which cost the lives 410
Of seventy thousand Israelites
In three days’ plague? Such was your zeal
For Israel then, the same that you have for me now.
As for those captive tribes, they themselves were
The ones who brought upon their own captivity,
Turning away from God to worship calves,
The deities
Of Egypt, Baal next and Ashtaroth,
And all the idolatries of the heathen around,
Along with their other crimes worse than those of the heathens;
Nor in the land of their captivity
Did they humble themselves, or penitent begged
The God of their forefathers, but so died
Unrepentant, and left a race behind
Like themselves, barely distinguishable 420
From Gentiles, but by circumcision in vain,
And God joined in their worship of idols.
Should I regard the liberty of these,
Who, released, as to their ancient patrimony,
Unhumbled, unrepentant, unreformed,
Would blindly follow, and to their gods perhaps
Of Bethel and Dan? No; let them serve
Their enemies who serve idols alongside God.
Yet in the end, at a time known only to Him,
Remembering Abraham, by some wondrous call
He may bring them back, repentant and sincere,
And at their passage part the Assyrian waters,
While they hurry home joyfully,
As once He parted the Red Sea and Jordan,
When their fathers passed to the Promised Land.
I leave them to His timing and providence.” 440
So spoke Israel’s true King, and to the Fiend
Gave a fitting answer, which made void all his schemes.
So it goes when truth contends with falsehood.
THE FOURTH BOOK
Perplexed and troubled at his bad success
The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,
Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope
So oft, and the persuasive rhetoric
That sleeked his tongue, and won so much on Eve,
So little here, nay lost. But Eve was Eve;
This far his over-match, who, self-deceived
And rash, beforehand had no better weighed
The strength he was to cope with, or his own.
But—as a man who had been matchless held 10
In cunning, over-reached where least he thought,
To salve his credit, and for very spite,
Still will be tempting him who foils him still,
And never cease, though to his shame the more;
Or as a swarm of flies in vintage-time,
About the wine-press where sweet must is poured,
Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound;
Or surging waves against a solid rock,
Though all to shivers dashed, the assault renew,
(Vain battery!) and in froth or bubbles end— 20
So Satan, whom repulse upon repulse
Met ever, and to shameful silence brought,
Yet gives not o’er, though desperate of success,
And his vain importunity pursues.
He brought our Saviour to the western side
Of that high mountain, whence he might behold
Another plain, long, but in breadth not wide,
Washed by the southern sea, and on the north
To equal length backed with a ridge of hills
That screened the fruits of the earth and seats of men 30
From cold Septentrion blasts; thence in the midst
Divided by a river, off whose banks
On each side an Imperial City stood,
With towers and temples proudly elevate
On seven small hills, with palaces adorned,
Porches and theatres, baths, aqueducts,
Statues and trophies, and triumphal arcs,
Gardens and groves, presented to his eyes
Above the highth of mountains interposed—
By what strange parallax, or optic skill 40
Of vision, multiplied through air, or glass
Of telescope, were curious to enquire.
And now the Tempter thus his silence broke:—
“The city which thou seest no other deem
Than great and glorious Rome, Queen of the Earth
So far renowned, and with the spoils enriched
Of nations. There the Capitol thou seest,
Above the rest lifting his stately head
On the Tarpeian rock, her citadel
Impregnable; and there Mount Palatine, 50
The imperial palace, compass huge, and high
The structure, skill of noblest architects,
With gilded battlements, conspicuous far,
Turrets, and terraces, and glittering spires.
Many a fair edifice besides, more like
Houses of gods—so well I have disposed
My aerie microscope—thou may’st behold,
Outside and inside both, pillars and roofs
Carved work, the hand of famed artificers
In cedar, marble, ivory, or gold. 60
Thence to the gates cast round thine eye, and see
What conflux issuing forth, or entering in:
Praetors, proconsuls to their provinces
Hasting, or on return, in robes of state;
Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power;
Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wings;
Or embassies from regions far remote,
In various habits, on the Appian road,
Or on the AEmilian—some from farthest south,
Syene, and where the shadow both way falls, 70
Meroe, Nilotic isle, and, more to west,
The realm of Bocchus to the Blackmoor sea;
From the Asian kings (and Parthian among these),
From India and the Golden Chersoness,
And utmost Indian isle Taprobane,
Dusk faces with white silken turbants wreathed;
From Gallia, Gades, and the British west;
Germans, and Scythians, and Sarmatians north
Beyond Danubius to the Tauric pool.
All nations now to Rome obedience pay— 80
To Rome’s great Emperor, whose wide domain,
In ample territory, wealth and power,
Civility of manners, arts and arms,
And long renown, thou justly may’st prefer
Before the Parthian. These two thrones except,
The rest are barbarous, and scarce worth the sight,
Shared among petty kings too far removed;
These having shewn thee, I have shewn thee all
The kingdoms of the world, and all their glory.
This Emperor hath no son, and now is old, 90
Old and lascivious, and from Rome retired
To Capreae, an island small but strong
On the Campanian shore, with purpose there
His horrid lusts in private to enjoy;
Committing to a wicked favourite
All public cares, and yet of him suspicious;
Hated of all, and hating. With what ease,
Endued with regal virtues as thou art,
Appearing, and beginning noble deeds,
Might’st thou expel this monster from his throne, 100
Now made a sty, and, in his place ascending,
A victor-people free from servile yoke!
And with my help thou may’st; to me the power
Is given, and by that right I give it thee.
Aim, therefore, at no less than all the world;
Aim at the highest; without the highest attained,
Will be for thee no sitting, or not long,
On David’s throne, be prophesied what will.”
To whom the Son of God, unmoved, replied:—
“Nor doth this grandeur and majestic shew 110
Of luxury, though called magnificence,
More than of arms before, allure mine eye,
Much less my mind; though thou should’st add to tell
Their sumptuous gluttonies, and gorgeous feasts
On citron tables or Atlantic stone
(For I have also heard, perhaps have read),
Their wines of Setia, Cales, and Falerne,
Chios and Crete, and how they quaff in gold,
Crystal, and myrrhine cups, imbossed with gems
And studs of pearl—to me should’st tell, who thirst 120
And hunger still. Then embassies thou shew’st
From nations far and nigh! What honour that,
But tedious waste of time, to sit and hear
So many hollow compliments and lies,
Outlandish flatteries? Then proceed’st to talk
Of the Emperor, how easily subdued,
How gloriously. I shall, thou say’st, expel
A brutish monster: what if I withal
Expel a Devil who first made him such?
Let his tormentor, Conscience, find him out; 130
For him I was not sent, nor yet to free
That people, victor once, now vile and base,
Deservedly made vassal—who, once just,
Frugal, and mild, and temperate, conquered well,
But govern ill the nations under yoke,
Peeling their provinces, exhausted all
By lust and rapine; first ambitious grown
Of triumph, that insulting vanity;
Then cruel, by their sports to blood inured
Of fighting beasts, and men to beasts exposed; 140
Luxurious by their wealth, and greedier still,
And from the daily Scene effeminate.
What wise and valiant man would seek to free
These, thus degenerate, by themselves enslaved,
Or could of inward slaves make outward free?
Know, therefore, when my season comes to sit
On David’s throne, it shall be like a tree
Spreading and overshadowing all the earth,
Or as a stone that shall to pieces dash
All monarchies besides throughout the world; 150
And of my Kingdom there shall be no end.
Means there shall be to this; but what the means
Is not for thee to know, nor me to tell.”
To whom the Tempter, impudent, replied:—
“I see all offers made by me how slight
Thou valuest, because offered, and reject’st.
Nothing will please the difficult and nice,
Or nothing more than still to contradict.
On the other side know also thou that I
On what I offer set as high esteem, 160
Nor what I part with mean to give for naught,
All these, which in a moment thou behold’st,
The kingdoms of the world, to thee I give
(For, given to me, I give to whom I please),
No trifle; yet with this reserve, not else—
On this condition, if thou wilt fall down,
And worship me as thy superior Lord
(Easily done), and hold them all of me;
For what can less so great a gift deserve?”
Whom thus our Saviour answered with disdain:— 170
“I never liked thy talk, thy offers less;
Now both abhor, since thou hast dared to utter
The abominable terms, impious condition.
But I endure the time, till which expired
Thou hast permission on me. It is written,
The first of all commandments, ‘Thou shalt worship
The Lord thy God, and only Him shalt serve.’
And dar’st thou to the Son of God propound
To worship thee, accursed? now more accursed
For this attempt, bolder than that on Eve, 180
And more blasphemous; which expect to rue.
The kingdoms of the world to thee were given!
Permitted rather, and by thee usurped;
Other donation none thou canst produce.
If given, by whom but by the King of kings,
God over all supreme? If given to thee,
By thee how fairly is the Giver now
Repaid! But gratitude in thee is lost
Long since. Wert thou so void of fear or shame
As offer them to me, the Son of God— 190
To me my own, on such abhorred pact,
That I fall down and worship thee as God?
Get thee behind me! Plain thou now appear’st
That Evil One, Satan for ever damned.”
To whom the Fiend, with fear abashed, replied:—
“Be not so sore offended, Son of God—
Though Sons of God both Angels are and Men—
If I, to try whether in higher sort
Than these thou bear’st that title, have proposed
What both from Men and Angels I receive, 200
Tetrarchs of Fire, Air, Flood, and on the Earth
Nations besides from all the quartered winds—
God of this World invoked, and World beneath.
Who then thou art, whose coming is foretold
To me most fatal, me it most concerns.
The trial hath indamaged thee no way,
Rather more honour left and more esteem;
Me naught advantaged, missing what I aimed.
Therefore let pass, as they are transitory,
The kingdoms of this world; I shall no more 210
Advise thee; gain them as thou canst, or not.
And thou thyself seem’st otherwise inclined
Than to a worldly crown, addicted more
To contemplation and profound dispute;
As by that early action may be judged,
When, slipping from thy mother’s eye, thou went’st
Alone into the Temple, there wast found
Among the gravest Rabbies, disputant
On points and questions fitting Moses’ chair,
Teaching, not taught. The childhood shews the man, 220
As morning shews the day. Be famous, then,
By wisdom; as thy empire must extend,
So let extend thy mind o’er all the world
In knowledge; all things in it comprehend.
All knowledge is not couched in Moses’ law,
The Pentateuch, or what the Prophets wrote;
The Gentiles also know, and write, and teach
To admiration, led by Nature’s light;
And with the Gentiles much thou must converse,
Ruling them by persuasion, as thou mean’st. 230
Without their learning, how wilt thou with them,
Or they with thee, hold conversation meet?
How wilt thou reason with them, how refute
Their idolisms, traditions, paradoxes?
Error by his own arms is best evinced.
Look once more, ere we leave this specular mount,
Westward, much nearer by south-west; behold
Where on the AEgean shore a city stands,
Built nobly, pure the air and light the soil—
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts 240
And Eloquence, native to famous wits
Or hospitable, in her sweet recess,
City or suburban, studious walks and shades.
See there the olive-grove of Academe,
Plato’s retirement, where the Attic bird
Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long;
There, flowery hill, Hymettus, with the sound
Of bees’ industrious murmur, oft invites
To studious musing; there Ilissus rowls
His whispering stream. Within the walls then view 250
The schools of ancient sages—his who bred
Great Alexander to subdue the world,
Lyceum there; and painted Stoa next.
There thou shalt hear and learn the secret power
Of harmony, in tones and numbers hit
By voice or hand, and various-measured verse,
AEolian charms and Dorian lyric odes,
And his who gave them breath, but higher sung,
Blind Melesigenes, thence Homer called,
Whose poem Phoebus challenged for his own. 260
Thence what the lofty grave Tragedians taught
In chorus or iambic, teachers best
Of moral prudence, with delight received
In brief sententious precepts, while they treat
Of fate, and chance, and change in human life,
High actions and high passions best describing.
Thence to the famous Orators repair,
Those ancient whose resistless eloquence
Wielded at will that fierce democraty,
Shook the Arsenal, and fulmined over Greece 270
To Macedon and Artaxerxes’ throne.
To sage Philosophy next lend thine ear,
From heaven descended to the low-roofed house
Of Socrates—see there his tenement—
Whom, well inspired, the Oracle pronounced
Wisest of men; from whose mouth issued forth
Mellifluous streams, that watered all the schools
Of Academics old and new, with those
Surnamed Peripatetics, and the sect
Epicurean, and the Stoic severe. 280
These here revolve, or, as thou likest, at home,
Till time mature thee to a kingdom’s weight;
These rules will render thee a king complete
Within thyself, much more with empire joined.”
To whom our Saviour sagely thus replied:—
“Think not but that I know these things; or, think
I know them not, not therefore am I short
Of knowing what I ought. He who receives
Light from above, from the Fountain of Light,
No other doctrine needs, though granted true; 290
But these are false, or little else but dreams,
Conjectures, fancies, built on nothing firm.
The first and wisest of them all professed
To know this only, that he nothing knew;
The next to fabling fell and smooth conceits;
A third sort doubted all things, though plain sense;
Others in virtue placed felicity,
But virtue joined with riches and long life;
In corporal pleasure he, and careless ease;
The Stoic last in philosophic pride, 300
By him called virtue, and his virtuous man,
Wise, perfect in himself, and all possessing,
Equal to God, oft shames not to prefer,
As fearing God nor man, contemning all
Wealth, pleasure, pain or torment, death and life—
Which, when he lists, he leaves, or boasts he can;
For all his tedious talk is but vain boast,
Or subtle shifts conviction to evade.
Alas! what can they teach, and not mislead,
Ignorant of themselves, of God much more, 310
And how the World began, and how Man fell,
Degraded by himself, on grace depending?
Much of the Soul they talk, but all awry;
And in themselves seek virtue; and to themselves
All glory arrogate, to God give none;
Rather accuse him under usual names,
Fortune and Fate, as one regardless quite
Of mortal things. Who, therefore, seeks in these
True wisdom finds her not, or, by delusion
Far worse, her false resemblance only meets, 320
An empty cloud. However, many books,
Wise men have said, are wearisome; who reads
Incessantly, and to his reading brings not
A spirit and judgment equal or superior,
(And what he brings what needs he elsewhere seek?)
Uncertain and unsettled still remains,
Deep-versed in books and shallow in himself,
Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys
And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge,
As children gathering pebbles on the shore. 330
Or, if I would delight my private hours
With music or with poem, where so soon
As in our native language can I find
That solace? All our Law and Story strewed
With hymns, our Psalms with artful terms inscribed,
Our Hebrew songs and harps, in Babylon
That pleased so well our victor’s ear, declare
That rather Greece from us these arts derived—
Ill imitated while they loudest sing
The vices of their deities, and their own, 340
In fable, hymn, or song, so personating
Their gods ridiculous, and themselves past shame.
Remove their swelling epithetes, thick-laid
As varnish on a harlot’s cheek, the rest,
Thin-sown with aught of profit or delight,
Will far be found unworthy to compare
With Sion’s songs, to all true tastes excelling,
Where God is praised aright and godlike men,
The Holiest of Holies and his Saints
(Such are from God inspired, not such from thee); 350
Unless where moral virtue is expressed
By light of Nature, not in all quite lost.
Their orators thou then extoll’st as those
The top of eloquence—statists indeed,
And lovers of their country, as may seem;
But herein to our Prophets far beneath,
As men divinely taught, and better teaching
The solid rules of civil government,
In their majestic, unaffected style,
Than all the oratory of Greece and Rome. 360
In them is plainest 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 spake the Son of God; but Satan, now
Quite at a loss (for all his darts were spent),
Thus to our Saviour, with stern brow, replied:—
“Since neither wealth nor honour, arms nor arts,
Kingdom nor empire, pleases thee, nor aught
By me proposed in life contemplative 370
Or active, tended on by glory or fame,
What dost thou in this world? The Wilderness
For thee is fittest place: I found thee there,
And thither will return thee. Yet remember
What I foretell thee; soon thou shalt have cause
To wish thou never hadst rejected, thus
Nicely or cautiously, my offered aid,
Which would have set thee in short time with ease
On David’s throne, or throne of all the world,
Now at full age, fulness of time, thy season, 380
When prophecies of thee are best fulfilled.
Now, contrary—if I read aught in heaven,
Or heaven write aught of fate—by what the stars
Voluminous, or single characters
In their conjunction met, give me to spell,
Sorrows and labours, opposition, hate,
Attends thee; scorns, reproaches, injuries,
Violence and stripes, and, lastly, cruel death.
A kingdom they portend thee, but what kingdom,
Real or allegoric, I discern not; 390
Nor when: eternal sure—as without end,
Without beginning; for no date prefixed
Directs me in the starry rubric set.”
So saying, he took (for still he knew his power
Not yet expired), and to the Wilderness
Brought back, the Son of God, and left him there,
Feigning to disappear. Darkness now rose,
As daylight sunk, and brought in louring Night,
Her shadowy offspring, unsubstantial both,
Privation mere of light and absent day. 400
Our Saviour, meek, and with untroubled mind
After hisaerie jaunt, though hurried sore,
Hungry and cold, betook him to his rest,
Wherever, under some concourse of shades,
Whose branching arms thick intertwined might shield
From dews and damps of night his sheltered head;
But, sheltered, slept in vain; for at his head
The Tempter watched, and soon with ugly dreams
Disturbed his sleep. And either tropic now
’Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven; the clouds 410
From many a horrid rift abortive poured
Fierce rain with lightning mixed, water with fire,
In ruin reconciled; nor slept the winds
Within their stony caves, but rushed abroad
From the four hinges of the world, and fell
On the vexed wilderness, whose tallest pines,
Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks,
Bowed their stiff necks, loaden with stormy blasts,
Or torn up sheer. Ill wast thou shrouded then,
O patient Son of God, yet only stood’st 420
Unshaken! Nor yet staid the terror there:
Infernal ghosts and hellish furies round
Environed thee; some howled, some yelled, some shrieked,
Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou
Sat’st unappalled in calm and sinless peace.
Thus passed the night so foul, till Morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps, in amice grey,
Who with her radiant finger stilled the roar
Of thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds,
And griesly spectres, which the Fiend had raised 430
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.
And now the sun with more effectual beams
Had cheered the face of earth, and dried the wet
From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds,
Who all things now behold more fresh and green,
After a night of storm so ruinous,
Cleared up their choicest notes in bush and spray,
To gratulate the sweet return of morn.
Nor yet, amidst this joy and brightest morn,
Was absent, after all his mischief done, 440
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 resolved,
Desperate of better course, to vent his rage
And mad despite to be so oft repelled.
Him walking on a sunny hill he found,
Backed on the north and west by a thick wood;
Out of the wood he starts in wonted shape,
And in a careless mood thus to him said:— 450
“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 distant; and these flaws, though mortals fear them,
As dangerous to the pillared frame of Heaven,
Or to the Earth’s dark basis underneath,
Are to the main as inconsiderable
And harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneeze
To man’s less universe, and soon are gone.
Yet, as being ofttimes noxious where they light 460
On man, beast, plant, wasteful and turbulent,
Like turbulencies in the affairs of men,
Over whose heads they roar, and seem to point,
They oft fore-signify and threaten ill.
This tempest at this desert most was bent;
Of men at thee, for only thou here dwell’st.
Did I not tell thee, if thou didst reject
The perfect season offered with my aid
To win thy destined seat, but wilt prolong
All to the push of fate, pursue thy way 470
Of gaining David’s throne no man knows when
(For both the when and how is nowhere told),
Thou shalt be what thou art ordained, no doubt;
For Angels have proclaimed it, but concealing
The time and means? Each act is rightliest done
Not when it must, but when it may be best.
If thou observe not this, be sure to find
What I foretold thee—many a hard assay
Of dangers, and adversities, and pains,
Ere thou of Israel’s sceptre get fast hold; 480
Whereof this ominous night that closed thee round,
So many terrors, voices, prodigies,
May warn thee, as a sure foregoing sign.”
So talked he, while the Son of God went on,
And staid not, but in brief him answered thus:—
“Me worse than wet thou find’st not; other harm
Those terrors which thou speak’st of did me none.
I never feared they could, though noising loud
And threatening nigh: what they can do as signs
Betokening or ill-boding I contemn 490
As false portents, not sent from God, but thee;
Who, knowing I shall reign past thy preventing,
Obtrud’st thy offered aid, that I, accepting,
At least might seem to hold all power of thee,
Ambitious Spirit! and would’st be thought my God;
And storm’st, refused, thinking to terrify
Me to thy will! Desist (thou art discerned,
And toil’st in vain), nor me in vain molest.”
To whom the Fiend, now swoln with rage, replied:—
“Then hear, O Son of David, virgin-born! 500
For Son of God to me is yet in doubt.
Of the Messiah I have heard foretold
By all the Prophets; of thy birth, at length
Announced by Gabriel, with the first I knew,
And of the angelic song in Bethlehem field,
On thy birth-night, that sung thee Saviour born.
From that time seldom have I ceased to eye
Thy infancy, thy childhood, and thy youth,
Thy manhood last, though yet in private bred;
Till, at the ford of Jordan, whither all 510
Flocked to the Baptist, I among the rest
(Though not to be baptized), by voice from Heaven
Heard thee pronounced the Son of God beloved.
Thenceforth I thought thee worth my nearer view
And narrower scrutiny, that I might learn
In what degree or meaning thou art called
The Son of God, which bears no single sense.
The Son of God I also am, or was;
And, if I was, I am; relation stands:
All men are Sons of God; yet thee I thought 520
In some respect far higher so declared.
Therefore I watched thy footsteps from that hour,
And followed thee still on to this waste wild,
Where, by all best conjectures, I collect
Thou art to be my fatal enemy.
Good reason, then, if I beforehand seek
To understand my adversary, who
And what he is; his wisdom, power, intent;
By parle or composition, truce or league,
To win him, or win from him what I can. 530
And opportunity I here have had
To try thee, sift thee, and confess have found thee
Proof against all temptation, as a rock
Of adamant and as a centre, firm
To the utmost of mere man both wise and good,
Not more; for honours, riches, kingdoms, glory,
Have been before contemned, and may again.
Therefore, to know what more thou art than man,
Worth naming the Son of God by voice from Heaven,
Another method I must now begin.” 540
So saying, he caught him up, and, without wing
Of hippogrif, bore through the air sublime,
Over the wilderness and o’er the plain,
Till underneath them fair Jerusalem,
The Holy City, lifted high her towers,
And higher yet the glorious Temple reared
Her pile, far off appearing like a mount
Of alablaster, topt with golden spires:
There, on the highest pinnacle, he set
The Son of God, and added thus in scorn:— 550
“There stand, if thou wilt stand; to stand upright
Will ask thee skill. I to thy Father’s house
Have brought thee, and highest placed: highest is best.
Now shew thy progeny; if not to stand,
Cast thyself down. Safely, if Son of God;
For it is written, ‘He will give command
Concerning thee to his Angels; in their hands
They shall uplift thee, lest at any time
Thou chance to dash thy foot against a stone.’”
To whom thus Jesus: “Also it is written, 560
‘Tempt not the Lord thy God.’” He said, and stood;
But Satan, smitten with amazement, fell.
As when Earth’s son, Antaeus (to compare
Small things with greatest), in Irassa strove
With Jove’s Alcides, and, oft foiled, still rose,
Receiving from his mother Earth new strength,
Fresh from his fall, and fiercer grapple joined,
Throttled at length in the air expired and fell,
So, after many a foil, the Tempter proud,
Renewing fresh assaults, amidst his pride 570
Fell whence he stood to see his victor fall;
And, as that Theban monster that proposed
Her riddle, and him who solved it not devoured,
That once found out and solved, for grief and spite
Cast herself headlong from the Ismenian steep,
So, strook with dread and anguish, fell the Fiend,
And to his crew, that sat consulting, brought
Joyless triumphals of his hoped success,
Ruin, and desperation, and dismay,
Who durst so proudly tempt the Son of God. 580
So Satan fell; and straight a fiery globe
Of Angels on full sail of wing flew nigh,
Who on their plumy vans received Him soft
From his uneasy station, and upbore,
As on a floating couch, through the blithe air;
Then, in a flowery valley, set him down
On a green bank, and set before him spread
A table of celestial food, divine
Ambrosial fruits fetched from the Tree of Life,
And from the Fount of Life ambrosial drink, 590
That soon refreshed him wearied, and repaired
What hunger, if aught hunger, had impaired,
Or thirst; and, as he fed, Angelic quires
Sung heavenly anthems of his victory
Over temptation and the Tempter proud:—
“True Image of the Father, whether throned
In the bosom of bliss, and light of light
Conceiving, or, remote from Heaven, enshrined
In fleshly tabernacle and human form,
Wandering the wilderness—whatever place, 600
Habit, or state, or motion, still expressing
The Son of God, with Godlike force endued
Against the attempter of thy Father’s throne
And thief of Paradise! Him long of old
Thou didst debel, and down from Heaven cast
With all his army; now thou hast avenged
Supplanted Adam, and, by vanquishing
Temptation, hast regained lost Paradise,
And frustrated the conquest fraudulent.
He never more henceforth will dare set foot 610
In paradise to tempt; his snares are broke.
For, though that seat of earthly bliss be failed,
A fairer Paradise is founded now
For Adam and his chosen sons, whom thou,
A Saviour, art come down to reinstall;
Where they shall dwell secure, when time shall be,
Of tempter and temptation without fear.
But thou, Infernal Serpent! shalt not long
Rule in the clouds. Like an autumnal star,
Or lightning, thou shalt fall from Heaven, trod down 620
Under his feet. For proof, ere this thou feel’st
Thy wound (yet not thy last and deadliest wound)
By this repulse received, and hold’st in Hell
No triumph; in all her gates Abaddon rues
Thy bold attempt. Hereafter learn with awe
To dread the Son of God. He, all unarmed,
Shall chase thee, with the terror of his voice,
From thy demoniac holds, possession foul—
Thee and thy legions; yelling they shall fly,
And beg to hide them in a herd of swine, 630
Lest he command them down into the Deep,
Bound, and to torment sent before their time.
Hail, Son of the Most High, heir of both Worlds,
Queller of Satan! On thy glorious work
Now enter, and begin to save Mankind.”
Thus they the Son of God, our Saviour meek,
Sung victor, and, from heavenly feast refreshed,
Brought on his way with joy. He, unobserved,
Home to his mother’s house private returned.
Perplexed and troubled by his lack of success,
The Tempter stood, unsure of what to say,
Unmasked in his deceit, defeated in his hope
So many times, and despite his persuasive speech
That had charmed Eve and won her over,
Here he had gained so little, really lost. But Eve was Eve;
She was his better, who, fooling herself
And impulsive, had not properly considered
The strength he was up against, or his own.
But—like a man once thought unbeatable
In cunning, he was outsmarted where he least expected it,
To salvage his reputation, and out of spite,
Would keep trying to tempt the one who keeps thwarting him,
And never stop, even if it humiliates him more;
Or like a swarm of flies during harvest time,
Buzzing around the wine press where sweet juice is poured,
He gets beaten back, but returns again and again with a buzzing sound;
Or like crashing waves against a solid rock,
Though dashed to pieces, they launch their assault again,
(Vain effort!) and end up in foam or bubbles—
So Satan, who faced repulse after repulse
And was silenced to shame,
Still did not give up, despite having no chance of success,
And continued to pursue his pointless efforts.
He took our Savior to the western side
Of that high mountain, from which he could see
Another plain, long but not wide,
Lapped by the southern sea, and to the north
Backed with a ridge of hills
That protected the earth's fruits and people's homes
From the cold northern blasts; then in the center
Divided by a river, with cities of great power on each bank,
With proud towers and temples raised high
On seven small hills, adorned with palaces,
Porches, theaters, baths, aqueducts,
Statues and trophies, and triumphal arches,
Gardens and groves, presented to his eyes
Above the height of the intervening mountains—
What strange perspective, or visual trick
Of sight, multiplied through air, or telescope glass,
Would be fascinating to inquire.
And now the Tempter broke his silence:—
“The city you see is no other than great and glorious Rome, Queen of the Earth,
Renowned and enriched with the spoils
Of nations. There you see the Capitol,
Rising tall above the rest on the Tarpeian rock, her citadel
Impenetrable; and there Mount Palatine,
The imperial palace, vast and towering,
Crafted by the finest architects,
With gilded battlements, visible from afar,
Turrets, terraces, and glittering spires.
Many other splendid buildings, more like
Houses of gods—so well I have arranged
My high-tech microscope—you may see,
Inside and out, columns and roofs,
Carved work by famous artisans
In cedar, marble, ivory, or gold.
Then look around to the gates and see
What crowds are pouring out, or entering:
Praetors, proconsuls rushing to their provinces,
In robes of state; lictors and rods, the symbols of their power;
Legions and cohorts, cavalry and infantry;
Or delegations from distant regions,
In various garments, on the Appian road,
Or the Aemilian—some from the furthest south,
Syene, and where the shadow falls both ways,
Meroe, the Nile’s isle, and farther west,
The land of Bocchus to the Black Sea;
From the Asian kings (including the Parthians),
From India and the Golden Horn,
And the farthest Indian isle Taprobane,
Dark-skinned faces with white silk turbans wrapped;
From Gaul, Gades, and the British west;
Germans, Scythians, and Sarmatians from the north
Beyond the Danube to the Tauric Sea.
All nations now pay obedience to Rome—
To Rome’s great Emperor, whose vast realm,
In extensive territory, wealth, and power,
Culture, arts, and military might,
And long-standing fame, you justly should admire
More than the Parthian. Except for these two thrones,
The rest are barbaric and hardly worth noting,
Divided among petty kings too far removed;
Having shown you this, I have shown you all
The kingdoms of the world and all their glory.
This Emperor has no son, and is now old,
Old and decadent, and has retired from Rome
To Capreae, a small but strong island
On the Campanian shore, where he intends
To indulge his horrible passions privately;
Entrusting all public affairs to a wicked favorite
While remaining suspicious of him;
Hated by all, and hating in return. With such ease,
Endowed with royal virtues as you are,
Appearing, and starting noble deeds,
You could easily expel this monster from his throne,
Now made into a pigsty, and, ascending in his place,
Create a victorious people free from their servile yoke!
And with my help, you can; the power
Is given to me, and I grant it to you.
Aim, therefore, at nothing less than all the world;
Aim at the highest; without reaching the highest,
You will not have much time sitting on David’s throne.
To whom the Son of God, unfazed, replied:—
“Nor do I find this grandeur and majestic display
Of luxury, though called magnificence,
More enticing than arms before, nor even:
Though you add to tell
Of their sumptuous gluttonies, and gorgeous feasts
On citrus tables or Atlantic stone
(For I have also heard, perhaps have read),
Their wines from Setia, Cales, and Falerne,
Chios and Crete, and how they drink from gold,
Crystal, and myrrhine cups, encrusted with gems
And pearls—to me, who thirst
And hunger still. Then you show embassies
From nations near and far! What does that honor mean,
But a tedious waste of time, to sit and listen
To so many empty compliments and lies,
Foreign flatteries? Then you go on to talk
Of the Emperor, how easily subdued,
How glorious. You say I will expel
A brutish monster: what if I also
Expel a Devil who made him such?
Let his tormentor, Conscience, haunt him;
For him I was not sent, nor to free
That once victorious people, now vile and base,
Made vassals justly—who, once just,
Frugal, mild, and moderate, conquered well,
But governed poorly those nations in chains,
Robbing their provinces, exhausting all
By lust and plunder; first grown ambitious
For triumph, that insulting vanity;
Then cruel, from their games made bloodthirsty
Of fighting beasts, and men exposed to beasts;
Luxurious from their wealth, and even greedier still,
And from their daily spectacle effeminate.
What wise and brave man would seek to free
These, thus degenerated, enslaved by themselves,
Or make outwardly free those who are inwardly bound?
Know, therefore, when my moment comes to sit
On David’s throne, it will be like a tree
Spreading and overshadowing all the earth,
Or like a stone that shall shatter
All other monarchies in the world;
And my Kingdom shall have no end.
Ways there shall be to this; but what the ways
Are not for you to know, nor for me to tell.”
To whom the Tempter, shamelessly, replied:—
“I see that you value all my offers as slight
Because they are offered, and you reject them.
Nothing will satisfy the difficult and fussy,
Or nothing more than simply contradict.
On the other hand, you should also know that I
Set high value on what I offer,
And do not give away lightly,
All these kingdoms of the world, which you see
(I can give them to whom I choose);
No trifles; yet with this condition—
On this condition, if you will fall down,
And worship me as your superior Lord
(Easily done), and hold them all of me;
For what could deserve such a great gift less?”
To whom our Savior answered with disdain:—
“I have never liked your talk, and your offers less;
Now I truly despise them, since you have dared to mention
Such abominable terms, such an impious condition.
But I will endure until the time has expired
That you have permission over me. It is written,
The first of all commandments, ‘You shall worship
The Lord your God, and only Him shall you serve.’
And do you dare propose to the Son of God
To worship you, accursed? now more cursed
For this attempt, bolder than that on Eve,
And more blasphemous; which you will wish to regret.
The kingdoms of the world were given to you!
Allowed rather, and usurped by you;
You cannot produce any other donation.
If given, by whom but the King of kings,
God supreme over all? If given to you,
By you how fairly is the Giver now
Repaid! But gratitude in you has been lost
Long ago. Were you so devoid of fear or shame
As to offer them to me, the Son of God—
To me my own, on such an abominable pact,
That I should fall down and worship you as God?
Get behind me! It is clear you now show
Your true self as the Evil One, Satan forever damned.”
To whom the Fiend, abashed and fearful, replied:—
“Do not be so deeply offended, Son of God—
Though both Angels and Men are Sons of God—
If I, to test whether you hold that title
In higher regard than these, have suggested
What both from Men and Angels I receive,
Tetrarchs of Fire, Air, Water, and Earth,
Nations besides from all the cardinal directions—
God of this World invoked, and the World beneath.
Who then are you, whose coming is foretold
To me most fatal, and most concerns me.
The trial has diminished you no way,
Rather left you with more honor and esteem;
I gained nothing, missing what I aimed for.
Therefore let go, as they are temporary,
The kingdoms of this world; I shall no more
Advise you; gain them as you can, or not.
And you seem otherwise inclined
Than to a worldly crown, more attached
To contemplation and profound discussion;
As can be judged by that early action,
When you slipped from your mother’s eye, you went
Alone into the Temple, where you were found
Among the gravest Rabbis, disputing
On points and questions worthy of Moses’ chair,
Teaching, not being taught. Childhood shows the man,
As morning shows the day. Be famous, then,
By wisdom; as your empire must expand,
So let your mind expand throughout the world
In knowledge; comprehend all things in it.
Not all knowledge is found in Moses’ law,
The Pentateuch, or what the Prophets wrote;
The Gentiles also know, and write, and teach
To admiration, guided by Nature’s light;
And with the Gentiles, much you must converse,
Ruling them by persuasion, as you mean.
Without their learning, how will you with them,
Or they with you, hold appropriate conversation?
How will you reason with them, or refute
Their idols, traditions, paradoxes?
Error is best revealed by its own actions.
Look once more, before we leave this vantage point,
To the west, much closer by southwest; behold
Where on the Aegean shore a city stands,
Built nobly, pure the air and fertile the soil—
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts
And Eloquence, birthplace of famous minds
Or hospitable, in her pleasant retreats,
City or suburb, studious paths and shades.
See there the olive grove of Academia,
Plato’s retreat, where the Attic bird
Trills her intricate notes all summer long;
There, on the flowery hill, Hymettus, with the sound
Of bees’ industrious hum, often invites
To meditative pondering; there Ilissus flows
His whispering stream. Within the walls view then
The schools of ancient sages—who raised
Great Alexander to conquer the world,
Lyceum there; and painted Stoa next.
There you shall hear and learn the secret power
Of harmony, in tones and numbers struck
By voice or hand, and various-metric verse,
Aeolian charms and Dorian lyric odes,
And of him who gave them breath, but sung higher,
Blind Melesigenes, known as Homer,
Whose poem Phoebus claimed as his own.
From there what the lofty grave Tragedians taught
In chorus or iambic, their best teachers
Of moral wisdom, enjoyed briefly
In succinct, meaningful lessons, while they discuss
Fate, chance, and change in human life,
High actions and high passions best describing.
Next, go to the famous Orators,
Those ancient whose irresistible eloquence
Wielded at will that fierce democracy,
Shook the Arsenal, and thundered throughout Greece
To Macedon and Artaxerxes’ throne.
To wise Philosophy next lend your ear,
Having descended from Heaven to the modest home
Of Socrates—see there his dwelling—
Whom, well-inspired, the Oracle declared
Wisest of men; from whose mouth flowed forth
Melodious words, watering all the schools
Of Academics old and new, with those
Called Peripatetics, and the sect
Epicurean, and the strict Stoic.
Here they revolve, or, as you prefer, at home,
Until time matures you for a kingdom’s weight;
These lessons will prepare you to be a king
Within yourself, much more so with an empire attached.”
To whom our Savior wisely replied:—
“Do not think that I do not know these things; or, think
I am not aware, therefore I am short
Of knowing what I ought. He who receives
Light from above, from the Fountain of Light,
Needs no other teaching, even if it’s true;
But these are false, or little else but dreams,
Conjectures, fantasies, built on nothing solid.
The first and wisest of them all professed
To know this only, that he knew nothing;
The next fell to fables and smooth conceits;
A third sort doubted all things, though they were clear;
Others in virtue sought happiness,
But always together with riches and long life;
In bodily pleasure he, and careless ease;
The Stoic last in his philosophic pride,
Who called virtue by his name, the virtuous man,
Wise, self-sufficient, and all possessing,
Equal to God, often shamefully preferred,
As caring neither for God nor man, despising all
Wealth, pleasure, pain or suffering, life and death—
Which, whenever he chose, he could abandon, or boasted he could;
For all his tedious discourse is but vain boast,
Or clever shifts to avoid conviction.
Alas! what can they teach, that doesn’t mislead,
Ignorant of themselves, of God much more,
And how the World began, and how Man fell,
Degraded by himself, relying on grace?
Much about the Soul they speak, but all in error;
And in themselves seek virtue; and to themselves
All glory claim, giving none to God;
Instead, they accuse him under usual names,
Fortune and Fate, as if he is completely
Unconcerned with mortal matters. Therefore, he who seeks in these
True wisdom finds her not, or, through delusion
Far worse, her false likeness only encounters,
An empty cloud. Indeed, many have said that books
Are tiresome; who reads
Continuously, and brings to his reading not
A spirit and judgment equal or superior,
(And what he brings, why seek elsewhere?)
Uncertain and unsettled still remains,
Deep-versed in books and shallow in himself,
Crude or intoxicated, collecting trifles
And insignificant matters, worth no more than a sponge,
Like children gathering pebbles on the shore.
Or, if I want to enjoy my private hours
With music or poetry, where can I soon
Find that solace in our native tongue? All our Law and History
Scattered with hymns, our Psalms artistically inscribed,
Our Hebrew songs and harps, in Babylon
That pleased so well our conqueror’s ear, declare
That rather Greece derived these arts from us—
Poorly imitated while they most loudly sing
The faults of their gods, and their own,
In fable, hymn, or song, so personifying
Their gods ridiculously, and themselves shamelessly.
Remove their exaggerated titles thickly laid
Like varnish on a harlot’s cheek, the remainder,
Thin-sown with any benefit or joy,
Will be found far less worthy to compare
With Zion’s songs, excelling all true tastes,
Where God is praised rightly and godlike men,
The Holiest of Holies and His Saints
(Such are inspired by God, not like you);
Unless where moral virtue is expressed
By Nature’s light, not completely lost in all.
You then extol their orators as those
At the peak of eloquence—indeed politicians,
And lovers of their country, as it may seem;
But herein to our Prophets far inferior,
As men divinely enlightened, and better teaching
The solid rules of civil government,
In their majestic, unpretentious style,
Than all the rhetoric of Greece and Rome.
In them is plainly taught, and easily learned,
What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so,
What destroys kingdoms, and lays cities to waste;
These alone, along with our Law, best form a king.”
So spoke the Son of God; but Satan, now
Completely at a loss (for all his darts were spent),
Said to our Savior, with a stern brow:—
“Since neither wealth nor honor, arms nor arts,
Kingdom nor empire, pleases you, nor anything
In life contemplative
Or active, tended by glory or fame,
What do you do in this world? The Wilderness
Is the best place for you: I found you there,
And there I will return you. Yet remember
What I foretell you; soon you shall have cause
To wish you never had so cautiously rejected,
My offered aid,
Which could have easily placed you on David’s throne,
Or the throne of the entire world,
Now at full maturity, the fullness of time, your season,
When prophecies of you are best fulfilled.
Now, on the contrary—if I read anything in heaven,
Or heaven writes anything of fate—by what the stars
Express, in their conjunction,
Gives me a sign,
Sufferings and labor, opposition, hate,
Attending you; scorn, slights, injuries,
Violence and lashes, and finally, cruel death.
A kingdom they foreshadow for you, but what kingdom,
Real or allegorical, I cannot tell;
Nor when: surely eternal—as without end,
Without beginning; for no date assigned
Directs me in the starry rubric settled.”
So saying, he took the Son of God
And, knowing his power
Was not yet exhausted, brought him back the Wilderness,
Feigning to disappear. Darkness rose,
As daylight faded, bringing in gloomy Night,
Her shadowy offspring, mere privation
Of light and absent day.
Our Savior, meek, and with a calm mind,
After his high-flying journey, though rushed sore,
Hungry and cold, took to his rest,
Wherever under some gathering of shadows,
Whose intertwined branches might shield
From dews and chills of night his sheltered head;
But, sheltered, he slept in vain; because at his head
The Tempter watched, and soon with ugly dreams
Disturbed his sleep. And now both tropics
Began to thunder, and both ends of heaven; the clouds
From many horrid rifts pelted down
Fierce rain mixed with lightning, water with fire,
In ruin combined; nor slept the winds
In their stony caves, but rushed abroad
From the four corners of the world, and fell
On the troubled wilderness, whose tallest pines,
Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks,
Bowed their stiff necks, burdened with stormy blasts,
Or ripped up entirely. It was ill for you then,
O patient Son of God, yet you only stood
Unshaken! The terror did not cease there:
Infernal spirits and hellish furies surrounded
You; some howled, some yelled, some shrieked,
Some bent at you their fiery darts, while you
Sat untroubled in calm and sinless peace.
Thus passed the night so foul, until fair Morning
Came forth with pilgrim steps, in grey robes,
Who with her radiant finger stilled the roar
Of thunder, chased the clouds, and calmed the winds,
And dreadful specters, which the Fiend had raised
To tempt the Son of God with dire terrors.
And now the sun with more powerful rays
Had delighted the earth, and dried the wet
From drooping plants, or dripping trees; the birds,
Who now saw everything fresh and green,
After a night of storm so devastating,
Cleared up their sweetest songs in bush and spray,
To celebrate the sweet return of morning.
Yet, amidst this joy and brightest dawn,
Was not absent, after all his mischief done,
The Prince of Darkness; he would also seem
Glad about this fair change, and came to our Savior;
Yet with no new plan (they were all exhausted),
Rather by this last affront resolved,
Desperate for a better course, to vent his rage
And mad spite for being so often repelled.
He found him walking on a sunny hill,
Backed on the north and west by a thick forest;
Emerging from the woods in his usual form,
And in a careless manner said to him:—
“Fair morning greets you, Son of God,
After a dismal night. I heard the crash,
As earth and sky would mix; but I was far away;
And these gusts, though mortals fear them,
As if they threaten the pillars of Heaven,
Or the Earth’s dark foundation below,
Are as inconsequential
And harmless, if not beneficial, as a sneeze
To man’s small universe, and are soon gone.
Yet, as they are often harmful where they strike
On man, beast, plant, disruptive and violent,
Like disturbances in human affairs,
Over whose heads they roar, seeming to indicate,
They often foreshadow and signify ill.
This storm was most aimed at this desert;
Of men at you, since only you dwell here.
Did I not tell you, if you rejected
The perfect season offered with my help
To seize your destined seat, but wish to prolong
All to the whims of fate, pursue your way
To gain David’s throne when no one knows when
(For both the when and how is untold),
You shall undoubtedly be what you are meant to be;
For Angels have proclaimed it, but concealing
The time and means? Each act is rightly done
Not when it must, but when it may be best.
If you do not heed this, be sure to face
What I foretold—many hard trials
Of dangers, adversities, and pains,
Before you grasp firmly the scepter of Israel;
Of which this ominous night that surrounded you,
So many terrors, voices, and signs,
May warn you, as a sure foreboding sign.”
So he spoke, while the Son of God moved on,
And did not stop, but briefly answered him:—
“You do not find me worse than wet; the only harm
Those fears you mention did me none.
I never feared they could, though they were loud
And threatening nearby: what they can do as signs
Indicating or predicting ill, I disdain
As false portents, not sent from God, but from you;
Who, knowing I shall reign despite your efforts,
Push your offered aid, so that I might appear
To hold all power in your hands,
Ambitious Spirit! and would have you thought my God;
And you storm when refused, thinking to frighten
Me to your will! Stop (you are recognized,
And toil in vain), nor bother me in vain.”
To whom the Fiend, now swollen with rage, replied:—
“Then hear, O Son of David, born of a virgin!
For Son of God to me is still in question.
Of the Messiah, I have heard foretold
By all the Prophets; your birth, at length
Proclaimed by Gabriel, was known to me from the start,
And of the angelic song in Bethlehem,
On your birth-night, that sang you Savior born.
Since then, I have seldom ceased to watch
Your infancy, childhood, and youth,
Your manhood last, though still raised privately;
Until, at the ford of Jordan, where all
Flocked to the Baptist, I among the rest
(Though not to be baptized), by voice from Heaven
Heard you pronounced the Son of God beloved.
From that moment onward, I thought you worthy of my closer view
And narrow scrutiny, so that I might learn
In what way or meaning you are called
The Son of God, which has no single sense.
The Son of God I also am, or was;
And, if I was, I am; relation stands:
All men are Sons of God; yet I thought you
In some way far higher so declared.
Thus I watched your footsteps from that hour,
And followed you still to this wasteland,
Where, by all best guesses, I conclude
You are to be my deadly enemy.
Good reason, then, for me, if I seek in advance
To understand my opponent, who
And what he is; his wisdom, power, intent;
By negotiation or agreement, truce or pact,
To win him, or gain from him whatever I can.
And opportunity I have had here
To test you, sift you, and I must confess I have found you
A rock of adamant against all temptation,
As firm as a center, both wise and good,
Not more; for honors, riches, kingdoms, glory,
Have been scorned before, and may again.
So, to understand what more you are than a man,
Worthy to be called the Son of God by voice from Heaven,
I must now begin another method.”
So saying, he seized him, and without the wings
Of a hippogriff, bore through the air sublime,
Over the wilderness and o’er the plain,
Until beneath them fair Jerusalem,
The Holy City, lifted high her towers,
And higher still the glorious Temple rose
Her structure appearing far off like a mount
Of alabaster, topped with golden spires:
There, on the highest pinnacle, he set
The Son of God, and added scornfully:—
“There stand, if you will stand; to stay upright
Will require skill. I have brought you to your Father’s house
And placed you highest: the highest is best.
Now show your lineage; if not to stand,
Throw yourself down. Safely, if you are the Son of God;
For it is written, ‘He will command
Concerning you to His Angels; in their hands
They shall lift you up, lest at any time
You chance to strike your foot against a stone.’”
To whom Jesus replied: “Also it is written,
‘Do not tempt the Lord your God.’” He spoke, and stood;
But Satan, struck with amazement, fell.
As when Earth’s son, Antaeus (to compare
Small things with the greatest), struggled
With Jove’s Alcides, and, often defeated, still rose,
Receiving from his mother Earth new strength,
Fresh from his fall, and fiercer grapple joined,
Ultimately throttled in the air expired and fell,
So, after many defeats, the proud Tempter,
Renewing fresh assaults, in the midst of his pride
Fell from where he stood to see his victor fall;
And, as that Theban monster that posed
Her riddle and devoured anyone who could not solve it,
Once found out and solved, for grief and spite
Cast herself headlong from the Ismenian height,
So, struck with dread and anguish, fell the Fiend,
And to his crew, who sat consulting, brought
Joyless news of his hoped success,
Ruin, desperation, and dismay,
Who dared to so proudly tempt the Son of God.
Thus Satan fell; and immediately, a fiery globe
Of Angels on the full sail of wings flew near,
Who on their feathered wings received Him gently
From his uneasy position, and lifted him up,
As on a floating couch, through the happy air;
Then, in a flowery valley, set him down
On a green bank, and laid before him spread
A table of heavenly food, divine
Ambrosial fruits taken from the Tree of Life,
And from the Fountain of Life, ambrosial drink,
That soon refreshed him from weariness, and restored
What hunger, if any hunger, had impaired,
Or thirst; and, as he ate, angelic choirs
Sang heavenly anthems of his victory
Over temptation and the proud Tempter:—
“True Image of the Father, whether enthroned
In the bosom of bliss, and light of light
Conceiving, or, far from Heaven, enshrined
In a fleshly tabernacle and human form,
Wandering the wilderness—whatever place,
State, or movement, still expressing
The Son of God, endowed with Godlike force
Against the tempter of your Father’s throne
And thief of Paradise! Him long ago
You did defeat, and cast down from Heaven
With all his army; now you have avenged
Supplanted Adam, and, by overcoming
Temptation, have regained lost Paradise,
And thwarted the fraudulent conquest.
He shall never again dare set foot in paradise to tempt;
His traps are broken.
For although that seat of earthly delight has failed,
A fairer Paradise is founded now
For Adam and his chosen sons, whom you,
A Savior, have come down to reinstate;
Where they shall dwell securely, when the time arrives,
Free from tempter and temptation without fear.
But you, Infernal Serpent! shall not long
Rule in the skies. Like an autumn star,
Or lightning, you shall fall from Heaven, trampled down
Under his feet. For proof, even now you feel
Your injury (yet not your last and deadliest wound)
By this repulse received, and hold no triumph in Hell;
In all her gates Abaddon regrets
Your bold attempt. Hereafter learn with awe
To fear the Son of God. He, unarmed,
Shall chase you, with the terror of his voice,
From your demoniac holds, foul possession—
You and your legions; they shall flee, yelling,
And beg to hide themselves in a herd of swine,
Lest he command them into the Deep,
Bound, and sent to torment before their time.
Hail, Son of the Most High, heir of both Worlds,
Conqueror of Satan! Now enter into your glorious work
And begin to save Mankind.”
Thus sang the Son of God, our humble Savior,
Victorious, and, from the heavenly feast refreshed,
Carried on his way with joy. He, unnoticed,
Returned home to his mother’s house privately.
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