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 saw approach, who first with curious eye
Perus'd him, then with words thus utter'd spake.
Sir, what ill chance has brought thee to this place
So far from path or road of men, who pass
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 feem'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 faw and heard, for we fometimes
Who dwell this wilde, conftrain'd by want, come
To Town or Village nigh (nighest is far)
Where ought we hear, and curious are to hear,
What happ'ns new; Fame alfo finds us out.
To whom the Son of God. Who brought me hiWill bring me hence, no other Guide I feek. [ther 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 than 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'st thou fuch force in Bread? is it not written
(For I difcern thee other than thou seem'st)
Man lives not by Bread only, but each Word
Proceeding from the mouth of God, who fed
Our Fathers here with Manna; in the Mount
Mofes was forty days, nor eat nor drank,
And forty days Elijah without food
Wandred this barren waste, the fame I now:
Why doft thou then fuggest to me distrust,
Knowing who I am, as I know who thou art?
Whom thus anfwer'd th' Arch Fiend now undif
'Tis true, I am that Spirit unfortunate,
Who leagu❜d with millions more in rash revolt
Kept not my happy Station, but was driv'n
With them from Bliss to the bottomlefs deep,
Yet to that hideous place not fo confin'd
By rigour unconniving, but that oft
Leaving my dolorous Prifon 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 fometimes.
I came among the Sons of God, when he
Gave up into my hands Uzzean Job
To prove him, and illuftrate his high worth;
And when to all his Angels he propos'd
To draw the proud King Ahab into fraud
That he might fall in Ramoth, they demuring,
I undertook that Office, and the tongues
Of all his flattering Prophets glibb'd with lies
To his destruction, as I had in charge.
For what he bids I do, though I have lost
Much luftre of my native brightness, lost
To be beloy'd of God, I have not loft
To love, at least contemplate and admire
What I fee excellent in good, or fair,
Or virtuous, I should fo have loft all fenfe.
What can be then lefs in me than 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 lost 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 misery and wo.
At first it may be, but long fince with wo
Never 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 adjoin'd:
This wounds me most (what can it less) that Man, Man fall'n fhall be restor'd, I never more.
To whom our Saviour fternly thus reply'd. Defervedly thou griev'ft, compos'd of lies
From the beginning, and in lies wilt end;
Who boast'st release from Hell, and leave to come
Into the Heav'n of Heav'ns; thou com'ft indeed,
As a poor miserable captive thrall,
Comes to the place where he before had fat
Among the Prime in Splendor, now depos'd,
Ejected, emptied, gaz'd, unpitied, fhun'd,
A fpectacle of ruin or of fcorn
To all the Host of Heav'n, the happy place
Imports to thee no happiness, no joy,
Rather inflames thy torment, representing
Loft Bliss, to thee no more communicable,
So never more in Hell than when in Heav'n.
But thou art serviceable to Heav'ns King.
Wilt thou impute t'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
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