In corporal pleasure he, and careless ease;
The Stoic last in philosophic pride,
By him call'd virtue; and his virtuous man,
Wife, perfect in himself, and all poffeffing,
Equals to God, oft fhames not to prefer,
As fearing God nor man, contemning all
Wealth, pleasure, pain or torment, death and life,
Which when he lifts, he leaves, or boafts he can,
For all his tedious talk is but vain boast,
Or fubtle fhifts 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 foul they talk, but all awry,
And in themselves feek virtue, and to themselves
All glory arrogate, to God give none,
Rather accufe him under ufual names,
Fortune and Fate, as one regardless quite
Of mortal things. Who therefore seeks in these
True wisdom, finds her not, or by delusion
Far worse, her false resemblance only meets, 320
An empty cloud. However many books,
Wife men have said are wearifome; who reads
Inceffantly, and to his reading brings not
A fpirit and judgment equal or fuperior,
(And what he brings, what needs he elsewhere feek?) Uncertain and unfettled ftill remains,
Deep vers'd in books and shallow in himself,
Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys,
And trifles for choice matters, worth a spunge;
As children gathering pebbles on the shore. 330
Or if I would delight my private hours
With music or with poem, where so soon
As in our native language can I find
That folace? All our law and story strow'd
With hymns, our pfalms with artful terms inscrib'd,
Our Hebrew songs and harps in Babylon,
That pleas'd fo well our victors ear, declare
That rather Greece from us these arts deriv'd;
Ill imitated, while they loudeft fing
The vices of their Deities, and their own
In fable, hymn, or fong, fo perfonating
Their Gods ridiculous, and themselves past shame.
Remove their swelling epithets thick laid
As varnish on a harlot's cheek, the reft,
Thin fown with ought of profit or delight,
Will far be found unworthy to compare
With Sion's fongs, to all true tastes excelling,
Where God is prais'd aright, and God-like men,
The Holieft of Holies, and his Saints;
Such are from God infpir'd, not fuch from thee, 350
Unless where moral virtue is exprefs'd
By light of nature not in all quite lost.
Their orators thou then extoll'ft, as thofe
The top of eloquence, statists indeed,
And lovers of their country, as may feem;
But herein to our prophets far beneath,
As men divinely taught, and better teaching
The folid rules of civil government
In their majestic unaffected ftile
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 fpake the Son of God; but Satan now 365 Quite at a lofs, for all his darts were spent, Thus to our Saviour with ftern brow reply'd. Since neither wealth, nor honor, arms nor arts, Kingdom nor empire pleases thee, nor ought By me propos'd in life contemplative, Or active, tended on by glory', or fame, What doft 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, foon thou fhalt have cause 375 To wish thou never hadst rejected thus
Nicely or cautioufly my offer'd aid,
Which would have set thee in short time with ease
On David's throne, or throne of all the world,
Now at full age, fulness of time, thy feason, 380
When prophecies of thee are beft fulfill'd.
Now contrary, if I read ought in Heaven,
Or Heav'n write ought of fate, by what the stars Voluminous, or fingle characters,
In their conjunction met, give me to spell, 385
Sorrows, and labors, oppofition, hate
Attends thee, fcorns, reproaches, injuries,
Violence and ftripes, and lastly cruel death;
A kingdom they portend thee, but what kingdom,
Real or allegoric I difcern not,
Nor when, eternal fure, as without end,
Without beginning; for no date prefix'd
Directs me in the starry rubric set.
So faying he took (for ftill he knew his power Not yet expir'd) and to the wilderness 395 Brought back the Son of God, and left him there, Feigning to disappear. Darkness now rose, As day-light funk, and brought in louring night Her fhadowy ofspring, unsubstantial both, Privation mere of light and absent day.
Our Saviour meek and with untroubled mind
After his aery jaunt, though hurried fore,
Hungry and cold betook him to his rest,
Wherever, under fome concourse of shades,
Whose branching arms thick interwin'd might shield
From dews and damps of night his shelter'd head,
But shelter'd slept in vain, for at his head
The Tempter watch'd, and foon with ugly dreams
Disturb'd his fleep; and either tropic now 409
'Gan thunder, and both ends of Heav'n, the clouds
From many a horrid rift abortive pour'd
Fierce rain with lightning mix'd, water with fire In ruin reconcil'd: nor flept the winds
Within their ftony caves, but rush'd abroad
From the four hinges of the world, and fell 415
On the vex'd wilderness, whofe tallest pines,
Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks
Bow'd their stiff necks, loaden with stormy blasts,
Or torn up sheer: ill waft thou fhrouded then,
O patient Son of God, yet only flood'st
Unfhaken; nor yet ftay'd the terror there,
Infernal ghosts, and Hellish furies, round (fhriek'd,
Environ'd thee, some howl'd, fome yell'd, some
Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou
Satft unappall'd in calm and finless peace.
Thus pafs'd the night so foul, till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray,
Who with her radiant finger ftill'd the roar
Of thunder, chas'd the clouds, and laid the winds,
And grifly spectres, which the Fiend had rais'd 430
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.
And now the fun with more effectual beams
Had chear'd the face of earth, and dry'd the wet
From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds,
Who all things now behold more fresh and green, 435
After a night of storm so ruinous,
Clear'd up their choiceft notes in bush and spray To gratulate the fweet return of morn;
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