Satan, persisting in the temptation of our Lord, shows him Anperial Rome in its greatest poinp 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 him self 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. Sa. tan, now desperate, to enhance the value of his proffered gifts, professes that the only terins, on which he will nestow them, are our Saviour's falling down and worshipping him Our Lord expresses a firm but temperate indignation at uch a proposition, and rebukes the Tempter by the title of Satan for ever damned. Satan, abashed, attempts to jus tify 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 re sorts of learned teachers and their disciples; accompanying the view with a highly-finished panegyric on the Grecian mu sicians, poets, orators, and philosophers of the different sects, Jesus replies, by showing the vanity and insufficiency of the boasted heathen philosophy; and prefers to the music, poetry eloquence, and didactic policy of the Greeks, those of the in spired 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 under go, carries him back into the wilderness, and leaves him there Night comes on: Satan raises a tremendous storm, and at tempts farther to alarm Jesus with frightful dreams, and ter rifie threatening spectres; which, however, have no effect upon him. A calm, bright, beautiful morning succeeds to the horrors of the night. Satan again presents himself to our blessed Lord, and, from notieing the storm of the preceding night as pointed chiefly at him, takes occasion once more to insult him witn un account of the suhrings which he wa
certainly to undergo. This only draws from our Lord a brief rebuke Satan, now at the highth of his desperation, cou fesses that he had frequently watched Jesus from his birth, purposely to discover if he was the true Messiah; and col. lecting from what passed at the river Jordan that he most probably was so, he had from that time more assiduously fol lowed 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 be acknowledges that he has hitherto completely failed; but still determines to make one more trial of him. Accordingly, he onveys him to the temple at Jerusalem, and, placing him on 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 Bis own divinity by standing on this dangerous point. Satan, amazed and terrified, instantly falls; and repairs to his in fernal compeers to relate the bad success of his enterprise. Angels in the meantime convey our blessed Lord to a beau tiful valley, and, while they minister to him a repast of ce lestial food, celebrate his victory in a triumphant hymn.
PERPLEX'D and troubled at his bad 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 on Eve;
So little here, nay lost; but Eve was Eve :
This far his over-match, who, self-deceiv'd
And rash, beforehand had no better weigh'd
The strength he was to cope with, or bis 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 inʊre;
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 mountair, 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 [men,
That screen'd the fruits of the earth, and seats of
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 highth 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 aëry microscope, thou may'st behold,
Outside and inside both, pillars and roofs,
Carv'd work, the hand of fam'd artificers,
lu cedar, marble, ivory, or gold.
Thence to the gates cast round thine eye, and see
What coee issuing forth, or entering in:
Drætors, 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:
Germans, and Scythians, and Sarmatians, north
Beyond Danubius to the Tauric pool.
All nations now to Rome obedience pay:
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.
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 thou expel this monster from his throne,
Now made a sty, and, in his place ascending,
4 usurpation thence expell'd, reduce
To her original darkness, and your sway,
Which is my present journey,) and once more
Erect the standard there of ancient Night:
Yours be the advantage all, mine the revenge."
Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old,
With faltering speech and visage incompos'd,
Answered: "I know thee, stranger, who thou art,
That mighty leading angel, who of late [thrown
Made head against heaven's King, though over-
I saw and heard; for such a numerous host
Fled not in silence through the frighten'd deep
With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,
Confusion worse confounded; and heaven-gate
Pour'd out by millions her victorious bands
Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here
Keep residence: if all I can will serve
That little which is left so to defend,
Encroach'd on still through your intestine broils
Weakening the sceptre of old Night: first hell,
Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath
Now lately heaven and earth, another world,
Hung o'er my realm, link'd in a golden chain
To that side heaven from whence your legions fell;
If that way be your walk, you have not far;
So much the nearer danger; go, and speed;
Havoc, and spoil, and ruin, are my gain."
He ceas'd; and Satan stayed not to reply,
But, glad that now his sea should find a shore,
With fresh alacrity, and force renewed,
Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire,
Into the wild expanse, and, through the shock
Of fighting elements, on all sides round
Environ'd, wins his way; harder beset
And more endanger'd, than when Argo pass'd
Through Bosporus, betwixt the justling rocks:
Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunn'd
Charybdis, and by the other whirlpool steer'd.
So he with difficulty and labour hard
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