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He saw approach, who first with curious eye
Perus'd him, then with words thus utter'd spake.

Sir, what ill chance hath brought thee to this place
So far from path or road of men, who pass
In troop or caravan? for single none
Durst ever, who return'd, and dropt not here
His carcass, pin'd with hunger and with drouth.
I ask the rather, and the more admire,
For that to me thou seem'st the Man, whom late
Our new baptizing Prophet at the ford
Of Jordan honour'd so, and call'd thee Son
Of God: I saw and heard, for we sometimes
Who dwell this wild, constrain'd by want, come

forth
To town or village nigh, (nighest is far,)
Where aught we hear, and curious are to hear
What happens 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, replied the swain; What other way I see not; for we here Live on tough roots and shrubs, 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 stones be made thee bread, So shalt thou save thyself, and us relieve

VOl. IV. C

With food, whereof we wretched seldom taste.

He ended, and the Son of God replied. Think'st thou such force in bread? Is it not written, {For I discern thee other than thoti 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 monnt Moses was forty days, nor eat, nor drank; And forty days Elijah, without food, Wander'd this barren waste; the same I now: Why dost thou (lien suggest to me distrust, Knowing who I am, as I know who thou art?

Whom thus answer'd the Arch-Fiend, now undisguis'd. 'Tis true I am that Spirit unfortunate, Who, leagu'd with millions more in rash revolt, Kept not my happy station, but was driven With them from bliss to the bottomless deep, Yet to that hideous place not so 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 the air; nor from the Heaven of Heavens Hath he excluded my resort 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; 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 lies
To his destruction, as I had in charge;
For what be bids I do. Though I have lost
Much lustre of my native brightness, lost
To be belov'd of God, I have not lost
To love, at least contemplate and admire,
What I see excellent in good, or fair,
Or virtuous; I should so have lost all sense:
What can be then less in me than desire
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 lost, rather by them
I gain'd what I have gain'd, and with them dwell,
Copartner in these regions of the world,
If not disposer; lend them oft my .aid,
Oft my advice by presages and signs,
And answers, oracles, portents, and dreams,
Whereby they may direct their future life.
Envy they say excites me, thus to gain
Companions of my misery and woe.
At first it may be; but, long since with wot

Nearer acquainted, now I feel, by proof,

That fellowship in pain divides not smart,

Nor lightens aught each man's peculiar load.

Small consolation then, were man adjoin'd:

This wounds me most, (what can it less ?) that Man,

Man fall'n shall be restor'd, I never more.

To whom our Saviour sternly thus replied. Deservedly thou griev'st, compos'd of lies From the beginning, and in lies wilt end; Who boast'st release from Hell, and leave to come Into the Heaven of Heaven's : Thou com'st indeed As a poor miserable captive thrall Comes to the place where he before had sat Among the prime in splendour, now depos'd, Ejected, emptied, gaz'd, unpitied, shunn'd, A spectacle of ruin, or of scorn, To all the host of Heaven: The happy place Imparts to thee no happiness, no joy, Rather inflames thy torment; representing Lost bliss, to thee no more communicable, So never more in Hell than when in Heaven. 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 liar in four hundred mouths;

For lying in is thy sustenance, thy food.

Yet thou pretend'st to truth; all oracles

By thee are given, and what confess'd more true

Among the nations? that hath been thy craft,

By mixing somewhat true to vent more lies.

But what have been thy answers, what but dark,

Ambiguous, and with double sense deluding,

Which they who ask'd have seldom understood,

And not well understood as good not known?

Who ever by consulting at thy shrine

Return'd the wiser, or the more instruct,

To fly or follow what concern'd him most,

And run not sooner to his fatal snare?

For God hath justly given the nations up

To thy delusions; justly, since they fell

Idolatrous; but, when his purpose is

Among them to declare his providence

To thee not known, whence hast thou then thy truth,

But from him, or his Angels president

In every province, who, themselves disdaining

To approach thy temples, give thee in command

What, to the smallest tittle, thou shalt say

To thy adorers? Thou, with trembling fear,

Or like a fawning parasite, obey'st:

Then to thyself ascrib'st the truth foretold.

But this thy glory shall be soon retrench'd;

No more shalt thou by oracling abuse . .

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