Me him (for it was fhew'n him fo from Heaven) Me him whose Harbinger he was; and first Refus'd on me his Baptifm to confer,
As much his greater, and was hardly won;
But as I rofe out of the laving stream,
Heaven open'd 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 Heav'n, pronounc'd me his,
Me his beloved Son, in whom alone
He was well pleas'd; by which I knew the time
Now full, that I no more should live obfcure,
But openly begin, as best becomes
The Authority which I deriv'd from Heaven.
And now by fome 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 fpake our Morning Star then in his rife,
And looking round on every fide beheld
A pathless Desert, dusk with horrid shades;
The way he came not having mark'd, return
Was difficult, by humane steps untrod;
And he still on was led, but with fuch thoughts
Accompanied of things past and to come
Lodg❜d in his breft, as well might recommend
Such Solitude before choicest Society.
Full forty days he pass'd, whether on hill
Sometimes, anon in fhady vale, each night
Under the covert of some ancient Oak,
Or Cedar, to defend him from the dew,
Or harbour'd in one Cave, is not reveal'd;
Nor tafted humane food, nor hunger felt
Till those days ended, hunger'd then at last
Among wild Beafts: they at his fight grew mild,
Nor fleeping him nor waking harm'd, his walk
The fiery Serpent fled, and noxious Worm,
The Lion and fierce Tiger glar'd aloof.
But now an aged man in Rural weeds,
Following, as feem'd, the quest of some stray Ewe,
Or wither'd sticks to gather; which might ferve
Against a Winters day when winds blow keen,
To warm him wet return'd from field at Eve,
He faw approach, who first with curious eye 319
Perus'd him, then with words thus utt'red fpake.
Sir, what ill chance hath brought thee to this place
So far from path or road of men, who pafs
In Troop or Caravan, for fingle none
Durst ever, who return'd, and dropt not here
His Carcass, pin'd with hunger and with droughth?
I ask the rather, and the more admire,
For that to me thou seem'ft the man, whom late
Our new baptizing Prophet at the Ford
Of Jordan honour'd fo, and call'd thee Son
Of God; I saw and heard, for we fometimes 330
Whodwell this wild, conftrain'd by want, come forth
To Town or Village nigh (nighest is far)
Where ought we hear, and curious are to hear,
What happ'ns 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, reply'd the Swain, What other way I fee not, for we here Live on tough roots and ftubs, to thirst inur'd
More then the Camel, and to drink go far,
Men to much misery and hardship born;
But if thou be the Son of God, Command
That out of these hard ftones be made thee bread;
So fhalt thou fave thy felf and us relieve
With Food, whereof we wretched feldom taste.
He ended, and the Son of God reply'd.
Think'ft thou fuch force in Bread? is it not written
(For I discern thee other then thou seem'ft)
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
Mofes was forty days, nor eat nor drank,
And forty days Eliah without food
Wandred this barren wafte, the fame I now :
Why dost thou then suggest to me distrust,
Knowing who I am, as I know who thou art?
Whom thus answer'd th' Arch Fiend now undif-
'Tis true, I am that Spirit unfortunate, [guis'd.
Who leagu'd with millions more in rash revolt
Kept not my happy Station, but was driv'n
With them from blifs to the bottomlefs deep,
Yet to that hideous place not fo confin'd
By rigour unconniving, but that oft
Leaving my dolorous Prison I enjoy
Large liberty to round this Globe of Earth,
Or range in th' Air, nor from the Heav'n of Heav'ns
Hath he excluded my refort 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 propos'd
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 glibb'd with lyes
To his destruction, as I had in charge.
For what he bids I do; though I have loft
Much luftre of my native brightness, loft
To be belov'd of God, I have not lost
To love, at least contemplate and admire
What I fee excellent in good, or fair,
Or vertuous, I fhould fo have loft all fenfe.
What can be then lefs in me then defire
To see thee and approach thee, whom I know
Declar'd the Son of God, to hear attent
Thy wisdom, and behold thy God-like 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 loft not what I loft, rather by them
I gain'd what I have gain'd, and with them dwell Copartner in these Regions of the World,
If not difpofer; lend them oft my aid,
Oft my
advice by prefages and figns,
And answers, oracles, portents and dreams,
Whereby they may direct their future life.
Envy they fay excites me, thus to gain
Companions of my mifery and wo.
At first it may be; but long fince with wo
Neare acquainted, now I feel by proof,
That fellowship in pain divides not smart,
Nor lightens aught each mans peculiar load.
Small confolation then, were Man adjoyn'd:
This wounds me most (what can it less) that Man,
Man fall'n fhall be reftor'd, I never more.
To whom our Saviour fternly thus reply'd.
Deservedly thou griev'ft, compos'd of lyes
From the beginning, and in lies wilt end;
Who boaft'st release from Hell, and leave to come
Into the Heav'n of Heavens; thou com'ft indeed,
As a poor miserable captive thrall,
Comes to the place where he before had fat
Among the Prime in Splendour, now depos'd,
Ejected, emptyed, gaz'd, unpityed, shun'd,
A fpectacle of ruin or of scorn
To all the Hoft of Heaven; the happy place
Imparts to thee no happiness, no joy,
Rather inflames thy torment, representing
Loft bliss, to thee no more communicable,
So never more in Hell then 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 mov'd 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 lyer in four hundred mouths;
For lying is thy fuftenance, thy food.
Yet thou pretend'ft to truth; all Oracles
By thee are giv'n, and what confest more true
Among the Nations? that hath been thy craft,
By mixing fomewhat true to vent more lyes.
But what have been thy answers, what but dark
Ambiguous and with double sense deluding,
Which they who afk'd have seldom understood,
And not well understood as good not known?
Who ever by confulting at thy fhrine
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