THE FOURTH BOOKPerplexed and troubled at his bad successThe Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hopeSo oft, and the persuasive rhetoricThat 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-deceivedAnd rash, beforehand had no better weighedThe strength he was to cope with, or his own.But—as a man who had been matchless held 10In 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— 20So Satan, whom repulse upon repulseMet 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 sideOf that high mountain, whence he might beholdAnother plain, long, but in breadth not wide,Washed by the southern sea, and on the northTo equal length backed with a ridge of hillsThat screened the fruits of the earth and seats of men 30From cold Septentrion blasts; thence in the midstDivided by a river, off whose banksOn each side an Imperial City stood,With towers and temples proudly elevateOn seven small hills, with palaces adorned,Porches and theatres, baths, aqueducts,Statues and trophies, and triumphal arcs,Gardens and groves, presented to his eyesAbove the highth of mountains interposed—By what strange parallax, or optic skill 40Of vision, multiplied through air, or glassOf telescope, were curious to enquire.And now the Tempter thus his silence broke:—“The city which thou seest no other deemThan great and glorious Rome, Queen of the EarthSo far renowned, and with the spoils enrichedOf nations. There the Capitol thou seest,Above the rest lifting his stately headOn the Tarpeian rock, her citadelImpregnable; and there Mount Palatine, 50The imperial palace, compass huge, and highThe structure, skill of noblest architects,With gilded battlements, conspicuous far,Turrets, and terraces, and glittering spires.Many a fair edifice besides, more likeHouses of gods—so well I have disposedMy aerie microscope—thou may’st behold,Outside and inside both, pillars and roofsCarved work, the hand of famed artificersIn cedar, marble, ivory, or gold. 60Thence to the gates cast round thine eye, and seeWhat conflux issuing forth, or entering in:Praetors, proconsuls to their provincesHasting, 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, 70Meroe, 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 northBeyond Danubius to the Tauric pool.All nations now to Rome obedience pay— 80To 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 preferBefore 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 allThe kingdoms of the world, and all their glory.This Emperor hath no son, and now is old, 90Old and lascivious, and from Rome retiredTo Capreae, an island small but strongOn the Campanian shore, with purpose thereHis horrid lusts in private to enjoy;Committing to a wicked favouriteAll 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, 100Now 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 powerIs 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 110Of luxury, though called magnificence,More than of arms before, allure mine eye,Much less my mind; though thou should’st add to tellTheir sumptuous gluttonies, and gorgeous feastsOn 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 gemsAnd studs of pearl—to me should’st tell, who thirst 120And hunger still. Then embassies thou shew’stFrom nations far and nigh! What honour that,But tedious waste of time, to sit and hearSo many hollow compliments and lies,Outlandish flatteries? Then proceed’st to talkOf the Emperor, how easily subdued,How gloriously. I shall, thou say’st, expelA brutish monster: what if I withalExpel a Devil who first made him such?Let his tormentor, Conscience, find him out; 130For him I was not sent, nor yet to freeThat 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 allBy lust and rapine; first ambitious grownOf triumph, that insulting vanity;Then cruel, by their sports to blood inuredOf fighting beasts, and men to beasts exposed; 140Luxurious by their wealth, and greedier still,And from the daily Scene effeminate.What wise and valiant man would seek to freeThese, thus degenerate, by themselves enslaved,Or could of inward slaves make outward free?Know, therefore, when my season comes to sitOn David’s throne, it shall be like a treeSpreading and overshadowing all the earth,Or as a stone that shall to pieces dashAll monarchies besides throughout the world; 150And of my Kingdom there shall be no end.Means there shall be to this; but what the meansIs not for thee to know, nor me to tell.”To whom the Tempter, impudent, replied:—“I see all offers made by me how slightThou 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 IOn what I offer set as high esteem, 160Nor 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 utterThe abominable terms, impious condition.But I endure the time, till which expiredThou hast permission on me. It is written,The first of all commandments, ‘Thou shalt worshipThe Lord thy God, and only Him shalt serve.’And dar’st thou to the Son of God propoundTo worship thee, accursed? now more accursedFor this attempt, bolder than that on Eve, 180And 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 nowRepaid! But gratitude in thee is lostLong since. Wert thou so void of fear or shameAs offer them to me, the Son of God— 190To me my own, on such abhorred pact,That I fall down and worship thee as God?Get thee behind me! Plain thou now appear’stThat 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 sortThan these thou bear’st that title, have proposedWhat both from Men and Angels I receive, 200Tetrarchs of Fire, Air, Flood, and on the EarthNations besides from all the quartered winds—God of this World invoked, and World beneath.Who then thou art, whose coming is foretoldTo 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 210Advise thee; gain them as thou canst, or not.And thou thyself seem’st otherwise inclinedThan to a worldly crown, addicted moreTo contemplation and profound dispute;As by that early action may be judged,When, slipping from thy mother’s eye, thou went’stAlone into the Temple, there wast foundAmong the gravest Rabbies, disputantOn points and questions fitting Moses’ chair,Teaching, not taught. The childhood shews the man, 220As morning shews the day. Be famous, then,By wisdom; as thy empire must extend,So let extend thy mind o’er all the worldIn 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 teachTo admiration, led by Nature’s light;And with the Gentiles much thou must converse,Ruling them by persuasion, as thou mean’st. 230Without their learning, how wilt thou with them,Or they with thee, hold conversation meet?How wilt thou reason with them, how refuteTheir 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; beholdWhere on the AEgean shore a city stands,Built nobly, pure the air and light the soil—Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts 240And Eloquence, native to famous witsOr 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 birdTrills her thick-warbled notes the summer long;There, flowery hill, Hymettus, with the soundOf bees’ industrious murmur, oft invitesTo studious musing; there Ilissus rowlsHis whispering stream. Within the walls then view 250The schools of ancient sages—his who bredGreat Alexander to subdue the world,Lyceum there; and painted Stoa next.There thou shalt hear and learn the secret powerOf harmony, in tones and numbers hitBy 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. 260Thence what the lofty grave Tragedians taughtIn chorus or iambic, teachers bestOf moral prudence, with delight receivedIn brief sententious precepts, while they treatOf 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 eloquenceWielded at will that fierce democraty,Shook the Arsenal, and fulmined over Greece 270To Macedon and Artaxerxes’ throne.To sage Philosophy next lend thine ear,From heaven descended to the low-roofed houseOf Socrates—see there his tenement—Whom, well inspired, the Oracle pronouncedWisest of men; from whose mouth issued forthMellifluous streams, that watered all the schoolsOf Academics old and new, with thoseSurnamed Peripatetics, and the sectEpicurean, and the Stoic severe. 280These here revolve, or, as thou likest, at home,Till time mature thee to a kingdom’s weight;These rules will render thee a king completeWithin thyself, much more with empire joined.”To whom our Saviour sagely thus replied:—“Think not but that I know these things; or, thinkI know them not, not therefore am I shortOf knowing what I ought. He who receivesLight from above, from the Fountain of Light,No other doctrine needs, though granted true; 290But these are false, or little else but dreams,Conjectures, fancies, built on nothing firm.The first and wisest of them all professedTo 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, 300By 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 allWealth, 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, 310And 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 themselvesAll glory arrogate, to God give none;Rather accuse him under usual names,Fortune and Fate, as one regardless quiteOf mortal things. Who, therefore, seeks in theseTrue wisdom finds her not, or, by delusionFar worse, her false resemblance only meets, 320An empty cloud. However, many books,Wise men have said, are wearisome; who readsIncessantly, and to his reading brings notA 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 toysAnd trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge,As children gathering pebbles on the shore. 330Or, if I would delight my private hoursWith music or with poem, where so soonAs in our native language can I findThat solace? All our Law and Story strewedWith hymns, our Psalms with artful terms inscribed,Our Hebrew songs and harps, in BabylonThat pleased so well our victor’s ear, declareThat rather Greece from us these arts derived—Ill imitated while they loudest singThe vices of their deities, and their own, 340In fable, hymn, or song, so personatingTheir gods ridiculous, and themselves past shame.Remove their swelling epithetes, thick-laidAs varnish on a harlot’s cheek, the rest,Thin-sown with aught of profit or delight,Will far be found unworthy to compareWith 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); 350Unless where moral virtue is expressedBy light of Nature, not in all quite lost.Their orators thou then extoll’st as thoseThe 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 teachingThe solid rules of civil government,In their majestic, unaffected style,Than all the oratory of Greece and Rome. 360In 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, nowQuite 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 aughtBy me proposed in life contemplative 370Or active, tended on by glory or fame,What dost thou in this world? The WildernessFor thee is fittest place: I found thee there,And thither will return thee. Yet rememberWhat I foretell thee; soon thou shalt have causeTo wish thou never hadst rejected, thusNicely or cautiously, my offered aid,Which would have set thee in short time with easeOn David’s throne, or throne of all the world,Now at full age, fulness of time, thy season, 380When prophecies of thee are best fulfilled.Now, contrary—if I read aught in heaven,Or heaven write aught of fate—by what the starsVoluminous, or single charactersIn 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; 390Nor when: eternal sure—as without end,Without beginning; for no date prefixedDirects me in the starry rubric set.”So saying, he took (for still he knew his powerNot yet expired), and to the WildernessBrought 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. 400Our Saviour, meek, and with untroubled mindAfter 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 shieldFrom dews and damps of night his sheltered head;But, sheltered, slept in vain; for at his headThe Tempter watched, and soon with ugly dreamsDisturbed his sleep. And either tropic now’Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven; the clouds 410From many a horrid rift abortive pouredFierce rain with lightning mixed, water with fire,In ruin reconciled; nor slept the windsWithin their stony caves, but rushed abroadFrom the four hinges of the world, and fellOn 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 420Unshaken! Nor yet staid the terror there:Infernal ghosts and hellish furies roundEnvironed thee; some howled, some yelled, some shrieked,Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thouSat’st unappalled in calm and sinless peace.Thus passed the night so foul, till Morning fairCame forth with pilgrim steps, in amice grey,Who with her radiant finger stilled the roarOf thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds,And griesly spectres, which the Fiend had raised 430To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.And now the sun with more effectual beamsHad cheered the face of earth, and dried the wetFrom 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, 440The Prince of Darkness; glad would also seemOf 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 rageAnd 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 myselfWas 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 inconsiderableAnd harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneezeTo man’s less universe, and soon are gone.Yet, as being ofttimes noxious where they light 460On 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 rejectThe perfect season offered with my aidTo win thy destined seat, but wilt prolongAll to the push of fate, pursue thy way 470Of 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 concealingThe time and means? Each act is rightliest doneNot when it must, but when it may be best.If thou observe not this, be sure to findWhat I foretold thee—many a hard assayOf dangers, and adversities, and pains,Ere thou of Israel’s sceptre get fast hold; 480Whereof 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 harmThose terrors which thou speak’st of did me none.I never feared they could, though noising loudAnd threatening nigh: what they can do as signsBetokening or ill-boding I contemn 490As 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 terrifyMe 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! 500For Son of God to me is yet in doubt.Of the Messiah I have heard foretoldBy all the Prophets; of thy birth, at lengthAnnounced 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 eyeThy infancy, thy childhood, and thy youth,Thy manhood last, though yet in private bred;Till, at the ford of Jordan, whither all 510Flocked to the Baptist, I among the rest(Though not to be baptized), by voice from HeavenHeard thee pronounced the Son of God beloved.Thenceforth I thought thee worth my nearer viewAnd narrower scrutiny, that I might learnIn what degree or meaning thou art calledThe 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 520In 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 collectThou art to be my fatal enemy.Good reason, then, if I beforehand seekTo understand my adversary, whoAnd what he is; his wisdom, power, intent;By parle or composition, truce or league,To win him, or win from him what I can. 530And opportunity I here have hadTo try thee, sift thee, and confess have found theeProof against all temptation, as a rockOf adamant and as a centre, firmTo 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.” 540So saying, he caught him up, and, without wingOf 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 rearedHer pile, far off appearing like a mountOf alablaster, topt with golden spires:There, on the highest pinnacle, he setThe Son of God, and added thus in scorn:— 550“There stand, if thou wilt stand; to stand uprightWill ask thee skill. I to thy Father’s houseHave 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 commandConcerning thee to his Angels; in their handsThey shall uplift thee, lest at any timeThou 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 compareSmall things with greatest), in Irassa stroveWith 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 570Fell whence he stood to see his victor fall;And, as that Theban monster that proposedHer riddle, and him who solved it not devoured,That once found out and solved, for grief and spiteCast herself headlong from the Ismenian steep,So, strook with dread and anguish, fell the Fiend,And to his crew, that sat consulting, broughtJoyless triumphals of his hoped success,Ruin, and desperation, and dismay,Who durst so proudly tempt the Son of God. 580So Satan fell; and straight a fiery globeOf Angels on full sail of wing flew nigh,Who on their plumy vans received Him softFrom his uneasy station, and upbore,As on a floating couch, through the blithe air;Then, in a flowery valley, set him downOn a green bank, and set before him spreadA table of celestial food, divineAmbrosial fruits fetched from the Tree of Life,And from the Fount of Life ambrosial drink, 590That soon refreshed him wearied, and repairedWhat hunger, if aught hunger, had impaired,Or thirst; and, as he fed, Angelic quiresSung heavenly anthems of his victoryOver temptation and the Tempter proud:—“True Image of the Father, whether thronedIn the bosom of bliss, and light of lightConceiving, or, remote from Heaven, enshrinedIn fleshly tabernacle and human form,Wandering the wilderness—whatever place, 600Habit, or state, or motion, still expressingThe Son of God, with Godlike force enduedAgainst the attempter of thy Father’s throneAnd thief of Paradise! Him long of oldThou didst debel, and down from Heaven castWith all his army; now thou hast avengedSupplanted Adam, and, by vanquishingTemptation, hast regained lost Paradise,And frustrated the conquest fraudulent.He never more henceforth will dare set foot 610In paradise to tempt; his snares are broke.For, though that seat of earthly bliss be failed,A fairer Paradise is founded nowFor 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 longRule in the clouds. Like an autumnal star,Or lightning, thou shalt fall from Heaven, trod down 620Under his feet. For proof, ere this thou feel’stThy wound (yet not thy last and deadliest wound)By this repulse received, and hold’st in HellNo triumph; in all her gates Abaddon ruesThy bold attempt. Hereafter learn with aweTo 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, 630Lest 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 workNow 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 at his bad successThe Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hopeSo oft, and the persuasive rhetoricThat 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-deceivedAnd rash, beforehand had no better weighedThe strength he was to cope with, or his own.But—as a man who had been matchless held 10In 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— 20So Satan, whom repulse upon repulseMet 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 sideOf that high mountain, whence he might beholdAnother plain, long, but in breadth not wide,Washed by the southern sea, and on the northTo equal length backed with a ridge of hillsThat screened the fruits of the earth and seats of men 30From cold Septentrion blasts; thence in the midstDivided by a river, off whose banksOn each side an Imperial City stood,With towers and temples proudly elevateOn seven small hills, with palaces adorned,Porches and theatres, baths, aqueducts,Statues and trophies, and triumphal arcs,Gardens and groves, presented to his eyesAbove the highth of mountains interposed—By what strange parallax, or optic skill 40Of vision, multiplied through air, or glassOf telescope, were curious to enquire.And now the Tempter thus his silence broke:—“The city which thou seest no other deemThan great and glorious Rome, Queen of the EarthSo far renowned, and with the spoils enrichedOf nations. There the Capitol thou seest,Above the rest lifting his stately headOn the Tarpeian rock, her citadelImpregnable; and there Mount Palatine, 50The imperial palace, compass huge, and highThe structure, skill of noblest architects,With gilded battlements, conspicuous far,Turrets, and terraces, and glittering spires.Many a fair edifice besides, more likeHouses of gods—so well I have disposedMy aerie microscope—thou may’st behold,Outside and inside both, pillars and roofsCarved work, the hand of famed artificersIn cedar, marble, ivory, or gold. 60Thence to the gates cast round thine eye, and seeWhat conflux issuing forth, or entering in:Praetors, proconsuls to their provincesHasting, 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, 70Meroe, 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 northBeyond Danubius to the Tauric pool.All nations now to Rome obedience pay— 80To 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 preferBefore 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 allThe kingdoms of the world, and all their glory.This Emperor hath no son, and now is old, 90Old and lascivious, and from Rome retiredTo Capreae, an island small but strongOn the Campanian shore, with purpose thereHis horrid lusts in private to enjoy;Committing to a wicked favouriteAll 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, 100Now 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 powerIs 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 110Of luxury, though called magnificence,More than of arms before, allure mine eye,Much less my mind; though thou should’st add to tellTheir sumptuous gluttonies, and gorgeous feastsOn 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 gemsAnd studs of pearl—to me should’st tell, who thirst 120And hunger still. Then embassies thou shew’stFrom nations far and nigh! What honour that,But tedious waste of time, to sit and hearSo many hollow compliments and lies,Outlandish flatteries? Then proceed’st to talkOf the Emperor, how easily subdued,How gloriously. I shall, thou say’st, expelA brutish monster: what if I withalExpel a Devil who first made him such?Let his tormentor, Conscience, find him out; 130For him I was not sent, nor yet to freeThat 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 allBy lust and rapine; first ambitious grownOf triumph, that insulting vanity;Then cruel, by their sports to blood inuredOf fighting beasts, and men to beasts exposed; 140Luxurious by their wealth, and greedier still,And from the daily Scene effeminate.What wise and valiant man would seek to freeThese, thus degenerate, by themselves enslaved,Or could of inward slaves make outward free?Know, therefore, when my season comes to sitOn David’s throne, it shall be like a treeSpreading and overshadowing all the earth,Or as a stone that shall to pieces dashAll monarchies besides throughout the world; 150And of my Kingdom there shall be no end.Means there shall be to this; but what the meansIs not for thee to know, nor me to tell.”To whom the Tempter, impudent, replied:—“I see all offers made by me how slightThou 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 IOn what I offer set as high esteem, 160Nor 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 utterThe abominable terms, impious condition.But I endure the time, till which expiredThou hast permission on me. It is written,The first of all commandments, ‘Thou shalt worshipThe Lord thy God, and only Him shalt serve.’And dar’st thou to the Son of God propoundTo worship thee, accursed? now more accursedFor this attempt, bolder than that on Eve, 180And 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 nowRepaid! But gratitude in thee is lostLong since. Wert thou so void of fear or shameAs offer them to me, the Son of God— 190To me my own, on such abhorred pact,That I fall down and worship thee as God?Get thee behind me! Plain thou now appear’stThat 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 sortThan these thou bear’st that title, have proposedWhat both from Men and Angels I receive, 200Tetrarchs of Fire, Air, Flood, and on the EarthNations besides from all the quartered winds—God of this World invoked, and World beneath.Who then thou art, whose coming is foretoldTo 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 210Advise thee; gain them as thou canst, or not.And thou thyself seem’st otherwise inclinedThan to a worldly crown, addicted moreTo contemplation and profound dispute;As by that early action may be judged,When, slipping from thy mother’s eye, thou went’stAlone into the Temple, there wast foundAmong the gravest Rabbies, disputantOn points and questions fitting Moses’ chair,Teaching, not taught. The childhood shews the man, 220As morning shews the day. Be famous, then,By wisdom; as thy empire must extend,So let extend thy mind o’er all the worldIn 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 teachTo admiration, led by Nature’s light;And with the Gentiles much thou must converse,Ruling them by persuasion, as thou mean’st. 230Without their learning, how wilt thou with them,Or they with thee, hold conversation meet?How wilt thou reason with them, how refuteTheir 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; beholdWhere on the AEgean shore a city stands,Built nobly, pure the air and light the soil—Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts 240And Eloquence, native to famous witsOr 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 birdTrills her thick-warbled notes the summer long;There, flowery hill, Hymettus, with the soundOf bees’ industrious murmur, oft invitesTo studious musing; there Ilissus rowlsHis whispering stream. Within the walls then view 250The schools of ancient sages—his who bredGreat Alexander to subdue the world,Lyceum there; and painted Stoa next.There thou shalt hear and learn the secret powerOf harmony, in tones and numbers hitBy 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. 260Thence what the lofty grave Tragedians taughtIn chorus or iambic, teachers bestOf moral prudence, with delight receivedIn brief sententious precepts, while they treatOf 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 eloquenceWielded at will that fierce democraty,Shook the Arsenal, and fulmined over Greece 270To Macedon and Artaxerxes’ throne.To sage Philosophy next lend thine ear,From heaven descended to the low-roofed houseOf Socrates—see there his tenement—Whom, well inspired, the Oracle pronouncedWisest of men; from whose mouth issued forthMellifluous streams, that watered all the schoolsOf Academics old and new, with thoseSurnamed Peripatetics, and the sectEpicurean, and the Stoic severe. 280These here revolve, or, as thou likest, at home,Till time mature thee to a kingdom’s weight;These rules will render thee a king completeWithin thyself, much more with empire joined.”To whom our Saviour sagely thus replied:—“Think not but that I know these things; or, thinkI know them not, not therefore am I shortOf knowing what I ought. He who receivesLight from above, from the Fountain of Light,No other doctrine needs, though granted true; 290But these are false, or little else but dreams,Conjectures, fancies, built on nothing firm.The first and wisest of them all professedTo 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, 300By 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 allWealth, 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, 310And 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 themselvesAll glory arrogate, to God give none;Rather accuse him under usual names,Fortune and Fate, as one regardless quiteOf mortal things. Who, therefore, seeks in theseTrue wisdom finds her not, or, by delusionFar worse, her false resemblance only meets, 320An empty cloud. However, many books,Wise men have said, are wearisome; who readsIncessantly, and to his reading brings notA 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 toysAnd trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge,As children gathering pebbles on the shore. 330Or, if I would delight my private hoursWith music or with poem, where so soonAs in our native language can I findThat solace? All our Law and Story strewedWith hymns, our Psalms with artful terms inscribed,Our Hebrew songs and harps, in BabylonThat pleased so well our victor’s ear, declareThat rather Greece from us these arts derived—Ill imitated while they loudest singThe vices of their deities, and their own, 340In fable, hymn, or song, so personatingTheir gods ridiculous, and themselves past shame.Remove their swelling epithetes, thick-laidAs varnish on a harlot’s cheek, the rest,Thin-sown with aught of profit or delight,Will far be found unworthy to compareWith 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); 350Unless where moral virtue is expressedBy light of Nature, not in all quite lost.Their orators thou then extoll’st as thoseThe 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 teachingThe solid rules of civil government,In their majestic, unaffected style,Than all the oratory of Greece and Rome. 360In 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, nowQuite 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 aughtBy me proposed in life contemplative 370Or active, tended on by glory or fame,What dost thou in this world? The WildernessFor thee is fittest place: I found thee there,And thither will return thee. Yet rememberWhat I foretell thee; soon thou shalt have causeTo wish thou never hadst rejected, thusNicely or cautiously, my offered aid,Which would have set thee in short time with easeOn David’s throne, or throne of all the world,Now at full age, fulness of time, thy season, 380When prophecies of thee are best fulfilled.Now, contrary—if I read aught in heaven,Or heaven write aught of fate—by what the starsVoluminous, or single charactersIn 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; 390Nor when: eternal sure—as without end,Without beginning; for no date prefixedDirects me in the starry rubric set.”So saying, he took (for still he knew his powerNot yet expired), and to the WildernessBrought 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. 400Our Saviour, meek, and with untroubled mindAfter 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 shieldFrom dews and damps of night his sheltered head;But, sheltered, slept in vain; for at his headThe Tempter watched, and soon with ugly dreamsDisturbed his sleep. And either tropic now’Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven; the clouds 410From many a horrid rift abortive pouredFierce rain with lightning mixed, water with fire,In ruin reconciled; nor slept the windsWithin their stony caves, but rushed abroadFrom the four hinges of the world, and fellOn 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 420Unshaken! Nor yet staid the terror there:Infernal ghosts and hellish furies roundEnvironed thee; some howled, some yelled, some shrieked,Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thouSat’st unappalled in calm and sinless peace.Thus passed the night so foul, till Morning fairCame forth with pilgrim steps, in amice grey,Who with her radiant finger stilled the roarOf thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds,And griesly spectres, which the Fiend had raised 430To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.And now the sun with more effectual beamsHad cheered the face of earth, and dried the wetFrom 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, 440The Prince of Darkness; glad would also seemOf 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 rageAnd 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 myselfWas 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 inconsiderableAnd harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneezeTo man’s less universe, and soon are gone.Yet, as being ofttimes noxious where they light 460On 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 rejectThe perfect season offered with my aidTo win thy destined seat, but wilt prolongAll to the push of fate, pursue thy way 470Of 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 concealingThe time and means? Each act is rightliest doneNot when it must, but when it may be best.If thou observe not this, be sure to findWhat I foretold thee—many a hard assayOf dangers, and adversities, and pains,Ere thou of Israel’s sceptre get fast hold; 480Whereof 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 harmThose terrors which thou speak’st of did me none.I never feared they could, though noising loudAnd threatening nigh: what they can do as signsBetokening or ill-boding I contemn 490As 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 terrifyMe 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! 500For Son of God to me is yet in doubt.Of the Messiah I have heard foretoldBy all the Prophets; of thy birth, at lengthAnnounced 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 eyeThy infancy, thy childhood, and thy youth,Thy manhood last, though yet in private bred;Till, at the ford of Jordan, whither all 510Flocked to the Baptist, I among the rest(Though not to be baptized), by voice from HeavenHeard thee pronounced the Son of God beloved.Thenceforth I thought thee worth my nearer viewAnd narrower scrutiny, that I might learnIn what degree or meaning thou art calledThe 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 520In 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 collectThou art to be my fatal enemy.Good reason, then, if I beforehand seekTo understand my adversary, whoAnd what he is; his wisdom, power, intent;By parle or composition, truce or league,To win him, or win from him what I can. 530And opportunity I here have hadTo try thee, sift thee, and confess have found theeProof against all temptation, as a rockOf adamant and as a centre, firmTo 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.” 540So saying, he caught him up, and, without wingOf 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 rearedHer pile, far off appearing like a mountOf alablaster, topt with golden spires:There, on the highest pinnacle, he setThe Son of God, and added thus in scorn:— 550“There stand, if thou wilt stand; to stand uprightWill ask thee skill. I to thy Father’s houseHave 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 commandConcerning thee to his Angels; in their handsThey shall uplift thee, lest at any timeThou 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 compareSmall things with greatest), in Irassa stroveWith 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 570Fell whence he stood to see his victor fall;And, as that Theban monster that proposedHer riddle, and him who solved it not devoured,That once found out and solved, for grief and spiteCast herself headlong from the Ismenian steep,So, strook with dread and anguish, fell the Fiend,And to his crew, that sat consulting, broughtJoyless triumphals of his hoped success,Ruin, and desperation, and dismay,Who durst so proudly tempt the Son of God. 580So Satan fell; and straight a fiery globeOf Angels on full sail of wing flew nigh,Who on their plumy vans received Him softFrom his uneasy station, and upbore,As on a floating couch, through the blithe air;Then, in a flowery valley, set him downOn a green bank, and set before him spreadA table of celestial food, divineAmbrosial fruits fetched from the Tree of Life,And from the Fount of Life ambrosial drink, 590That soon refreshed him wearied, and repairedWhat hunger, if aught hunger, had impaired,Or thirst; and, as he fed, Angelic quiresSung heavenly anthems of his victoryOver temptation and the Tempter proud:—“True Image of the Father, whether thronedIn the bosom of bliss, and light of lightConceiving, or, remote from Heaven, enshrinedIn fleshly tabernacle and human form,Wandering the wilderness—whatever place, 600Habit, or state, or motion, still expressingThe Son of God, with Godlike force enduedAgainst the attempter of thy Father’s throneAnd thief of Paradise! Him long of oldThou didst debel, and down from Heaven castWith all his army; now thou hast avengedSupplanted Adam, and, by vanquishingTemptation, hast regained lost Paradise,And frustrated the conquest fraudulent.He never more henceforth will dare set foot 610In paradise to tempt; his snares are broke.For, though that seat of earthly bliss be failed,A fairer Paradise is founded nowFor 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 longRule in the clouds. Like an autumnal star,Or lightning, thou shalt fall from Heaven, trod down 620Under his feet. For proof, ere this thou feel’stThy wound (yet not thy last and deadliest wound)By this repulse received, and hold’st in HellNo triumph; in all her gates Abaddon ruesThy bold attempt. Hereafter learn with aweTo 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, 630Lest 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 workNow 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.