And seat of Salmanassar, whose success Israel in long captivity still mourns; There Babylon, the wonder of all tongues, 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 shows, And Hecatompylos her hundred gates; There Susa by Choaspes, amber stream, The drink of none but kings: of later fame, Built by Emathian or by Parthian hands, 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 gather'd all his host 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
Of equal dread in flight, or in pursuit ; All horseinen, in which fight they most excel; See how in warlike muster they appear,
In rhombs, and wedges, and half-moons, and wings."
He look'd, and saw what numbers numberless The city gates out-pour'd, light-armed troops, In coats of mail and military pride;
In mail their horses clad, yet fleet and strong, Prancing 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 Of Susiana, to Balsara's haven.
He saw them in their forms of battle rang'd, How quick they wheel'd, and flying behind them
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 indors'd with towers Of archers; nor of labouring pioneers A multitude, with spades and axes arm'd To lay hills plain, fell woods, or valleys fill, Or where plain was raise hill, or overlay With bridges rivers prond, as with a yoke; Mules after these, camels and dromedarics, And waggons, fraught with útensils of war. Such forces met not, nor so wide a camp, When Agrican with all his northern powers Besieg'd Albracca, as romances tell, The city of Gallaphrone, from whence to win The fairest of her sex Angelica,
His daughter, sought by many prowest knights, Both Paynim, and the peers of Charlemain, Such and so numerous was their chivalry :
At sight whereof the fiend yet more presum'd, And to our Saviour thus his words renew'd.
"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 shown
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 us'd, what it predicts revokes. But, say thou wert possess'd of David's throne, By free consent of all, none opposite, Samaritan or Jew; how could'st thou hope Long to enjoy it, quiet and secure, 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:
By him thou shalt regain, without him not, That which alone can truly re-install 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 dispers'd: Ten sons of Jacob, two of Joseph, lost Thus long from Israel, serving, as of old Their fathers in the land of Egypt serv'd, This offer sets before thee to deliver. 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 Cæsar not need fear."
To whom our Saviour answer'd thus, unmov'd. "Much ostentation vain of fleshy 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 Vented much policy, and projects deep Of enemies, of aids, battles and leagues, Plausible to the world, to me worth nought. 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 Luggage of war there shown 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 Israël, which cost the lives Of threescore and ten thousand Israelites By three days pestilence? Such was thy zeal
Tq 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 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 join'd. Should I of these the liberty regard, Who, freed, as to their ancient patrimony, Unhumbled, unrepentant, unreform'd, Headlong would follow; and to their gods perhaps Of Bethel and of Dan? No; let them serve Their enemies, who serve idols with God. Yet he at length, (tine to himself best known,) Remembering Abraham, by some wonderous 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 Promis'd Land their fathers pass'd : To bis due time and providence I leave them."
So spake Israel's true king, and to the fiend Made answer meet, that made void his wiles. So fares it, when with truth falesehood contends.
Satan, persisting in the temptation of our Lord, shows him imperial Rome in its greatest pomp and splendour, as a power which he probably would prefer before that of the Parthians; and tells him that he might with the greatest ease expel Tiberius, restore the Romans to their liberty, and make himself master not only of the Roman Empire, but by so doing of the whole world, and inclusively of the throne of David. Our Lord, in reply, expresses his contempt of grandeur and worldly power, notices the luxury, vanity, and profligacy of the Romans, declaring how little they merited to be restored to that liberty, which they had lost by their misconduct, and briefly refers to the greatness of his own future kingdom. Satan, now desperate, to enhance the value of his proffered gifts, professes that the only terms, on which he will bestow them, are our Saviour's falling down and worshipping him. Our Lord expresses a firm but temperate indignation at such a proposition, and rebukes the tempter by the title of "Satan for ever damned." Satan, abashed, attempts to justify himself: he then assumes a new ground of temptation, and proposing to Jesus the intellectual gratifications of wisdom and knowledge, points out
to him the celebrated seat of ancient learning, Athens, its schools, and other various resorts of learned teachers and their disciples; accompanying the view with a highly-finished panegyric on the Grecian musicians, poets, orators and philosophers of the different sects. Jesus replies, by showing the vanity and insufficiency of the boasted heathen philosophy; and refers to the music, poetry, eloquence and didactic policy of the Greeks, those of the inspired Hebrew writers. Satan, irritated at the failure of all his attempts, upbraids the indiscretion of our Saviour in rejecting his offers; and, having, in ridicule of his expected kingdom, foretold the sufferings that our Lord was to undergo, carries him back into the wilderness, and leaves him there. Night comes on: Satan raises a tremendous storm, and attempts further to alarm Jesus with frightful dreams, and terrific threatening spectres; which however have no effect upon him. A calm, bright, beautiful morning sueceeds to the horrours of the night. Saton again presents himself to our blessed Lord, and, from noticing the storm of the preceding night as pointed chiefly at him, takes occasion once more to insult him with an account of the sufferings which he was certainly to undergo. This only draws from our Lord a brief rebuke. Satan, now at the height of his desperation, confesses that he had frequently watched Jesus from his birth, purposely to discover if he was the true Messiah; and, coliecting from what passed at the river Jordan that he most probably was so, he had from that time more assiduously followed him, in hopes of gaining some advantage over him, which would most effectually prove that he was not really that Divine Person destined to be his "fatal enemy." In this he acknowledges that he has hitherto completely failed; but still determines to make one more trial of him. Accordingly he conveys him to the Temple at Jerusalem, and, placing him on a pointed eminence, requires him to prove his divinity either by standing there, or casting himself down with safety. Our Lord reproves the tempter, and at the same time manifests his own divinity by standing on this dangerous point. Satan, amazed and terrified, instantly falls; and repairs to his infernal compeers to relate the bad success of his enterprise. Angels in the mean time convey our blessed Lord to a beautiful valley, and, while they minister to hin a repast of celestial food, celebrate his victory in a triumphant hymn.
PERPLEX'D and troubled at his had success The tempter stood, nor had what to reply, Discover'd in his fraud, thrown from his hope So oft, and the persuasive rhetoric That sleek'd his tongue, and won so much oz Eve,
So little here, nay lost; but Eve was Eve: This far his over-match, who, self-deceiv'd And rash, before-hand had no better weigh'd The strength he was to cope with, or his own: But as a man, who had been matchless held In cunning, over-reach'd where least he thought,
To salve his credit, and for every 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 pour'd,
Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound; Or surging waves against a solid rock, Though all to shivers dash'd, the assault renew (Vain battery!) and in froth or bubbles end; 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, Wash'd by the southern sea, and, on the north, To equal length back'd with a ridge of hills That screen'd the fruits of the earth, and seats of men,
From cold Septentrion blast; thence in the midst Divided by a river, of whose banks On each side an imperial city stood, With towers and temples proudly elevate On seven small hills, with palaces adorn'd, Porches, and theatres, baths, aqueducts, Statues, and trophies, and triumphal arcs, Gardens, and groves, presented to his eyes, Above the height of mountains interpos'd: (By what strange parallax, or optic skill Of vision, multiplied through air, or glass Of telescope, were curious to inquire :) 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 renown'd, and with the spoils enrich'd 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, 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 dispos'd My aery microscope,) thou may'st behold, Outside and inside both, pillars and roofs, Carv'd work, the hand of fam'd artificers, In cedar, marble, ivory, or gold. Thence to the gates cast round thine eye, and see What conflux issuing forth, or entering in; Pretors, 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 Emilian; some from farthest south, Syene, and where the shadow both way falls, Meroe, Nilotic isle; and, more to west, The realm of Bocchus to the Black-moor sea; From the Asian kings, and Parthian among these; From India and the golden Chersonese, And utmost Indian isle Taprobane,
Dusk faces with white silken turbans wreath'd; From Gallia, Gades, and the British west;
And long renown, thou justly mayst prefer Before the Parthian. These two thrones except, The rest are barbarous, and scarce worth the sight,
Shar'd among petty kings too far remov'd; These having shown thee, I have shown thee all The kingdoms of the world, and all their glory. This emperor hath no son, and now is old, Old and lascivious, and from Rome retir'd To Capreæ, 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, Now made a stye, 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 attain'd, Will be for thee no sitting, or not long, On David's throne, be prophesied what will."
To whom the Son of God, unmov'd, replied. "Nor doth this grandeur and majestic show Of luxury, though call'd 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, emboss'd with gems And studs of pearl; to me should'st tell, who
And hunger still. Then embassies thou show'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 bis tormenter conscience find him out; 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 tenperate, conquer'd 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 inur'd Of fighting beasts, and men to beasts expos'd; 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 enslav'd? 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; 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 offer'd, 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, Nor what I part with mean to give for nought; 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 answer'd with disdain. "I never lik'd thy talk, thy offers less; Now both abhor, since thou hast dar'd to utter The abominable terms, impious condition: But I endure the time, till which expir'd 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 accurs'd? now more accurs'd For this attempt, bolder than that on Eve, And more blasphemous; which expect to rue. The kingdoms of the world to thee were given? Permitted rather, and by thee usurp'd; 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
And thou thyself seem'st otherwise inclin'd Than to a worldly crown; addicted more To contemplation and profound dispute, As by that early action may be judg'd, [went'st When, slipping from thy mother's eye, thou Alone into the temple, there wast found Among the gravest rabbies, disputant
On points and questions fitting Moses' chair, Teaching, not taught. The childhood shows the man,
As morning shows the day: be famous then By wisdom; as thy empire must extend, So let extend thy mind o'er ali the world In knowledge, all things in it comprehend. All knowledge is not couch'd 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; 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? Errour by his own arms is best evinc'd. Look once more, ere we leave this specular mount,
Westward, much nearer by southwest, behold; Where on the Agean shore a city stands, Built nobly, pure the air, and light the soil; Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts 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 rolls His whispering stream: within the walls, then The schools of ancient sages; his who bred Great Alexander to subdue the world, Lyceum there, and painted Stoa next:
There shalt thou hear and learn the secret power Of harmony, in tones and numbers hit
Long since. Wert thou so void of fear or shame, By voice or hand; and various-measur'd verse,
As offer them to me, the Son of God? 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 damn'd"
To whom the fiend, with fear abash'd, repli"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 propos'd What both from men and angels I receive, Tetrarchs of fire, air, flood, and on the Earth, Nations beside from all the quarter'd winds, God of this world invok'd, and world beneath: Who then thou art, whose coming is foretold To me most fatal, me it most concerns; The trial hath indamag'd thee no way, Rather more honour left and more esteem; Me nought advantag'd, missing what I aim'd. Therefore let pass, as they are transitory, The kingdoms of this world; I shall no more Advise thee; gain them as thou canst, or not.
olian charms and Dorian lyric odes And his, who gave them breath, but higher Blind Melesigenes, thence Homer call'd, Whose poem Phœbus challeng'd for his own: Thence what the lofty grave tragedians taught In Chorus or lambic, teachers best Of moral prudence, with delight receiv'd 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 democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece To Macedon and Artaxerxes' throne: To sage Philosophy next lend thine ear, From Heaven descended to the low-roof'd house Of Socrates; see there his tenement, Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronoune'd Wisest of men; from whose mouth issued forth Mellifluous streams, that water'd all the schools Of academics old and new, with those
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; But these are false, or little else but dreams, Conjectures, fancies, built on nothing firm. The first and wisest of them all profess'd To know this only, that he nothing knew; The next to fabling fell, and smooth conceits; A third sort doubted all things, though plain Others in virtue plac'd felicity, [sense;
But virtue join'd with riches and long life; In corporal pleasure he, and careless ease; The Stoic last in philosophic pride,
By him call'd 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 For all his tedious talk is but vain boast, Or subtle shif s conviction to evade. Alas! what can they teach and not mislead, Ignorant of themselves, of God much more, 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, 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 Uncertain and unsettled still remains, Deep vers'd 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. 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 strew'd
Will far be found unworthy to compare
With Ston's songs, to all true tastes excelling, Where God is prais'd aright, and God-like men, The Holiest of Holies, and his saints, (Such are from God inspir'd, not such from thee,) Unless where moral virtue is express'd
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. 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 thre, nor aught By me propos'd in life contemplative 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 foretel thee, soon thou shalt have cause To wish thou never hadst rejected, thus Nicely or cautiously, my offer'd aid, Which would have set thee in short time with On David's throne, or throne of all the world, Now at full age, fulness of time, thy season When prophecies of thee are best fulfill'd. 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 ine to spell, Sorrows, and labours, opposition, hate Attend 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;
Nor when; eternal sure, as without end, Without beginning; for no date prefix'd Directs me in the starry rubric set,"
So saying he took, (or still he knew his power Not yet expir'd) and to the wilderness Brought back the Son of God, and left him there, Feigning to disappear. Darkness now rose,
As day-light sunk, and brought in lowering
Her shadow y offspring; unsubstantial both, Privation mere of light and absent day
With hymns, our psalms with artful terms in- Our Saviour meek, and with untroubled mind
Our Hebrew songs and harps, in Babylon That pleas'd so well our victor's ear, declare That rather Greece from us these arts deriv'd; Ill imitated, while they loudest sing The vices of their deities, and their own, In fable, hynn, or song, so persona ing Their gods ridiculous, and themselves past shame. Remove their swelling epithets, thick laid As varnish on a har ot's cheek, the rest, Thin sown with aught of profit or delight,
After his aery jaunt, though hurried sore, Hangry and cold, bétook him to his rest, Wherever, under some concourse of shades, Whose branching arms thick intertwin'd might, shield
From dews and damps of night his shelter'd head; Fut, shelter'd, slept in vain; for at his head The tempter watch'd, and soon with ugly dreams Disturb'd his sleep. And either tropic now 'Gan thunder, and both ends of Heaven; the
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