Made and set wholly on the accomplishment Of greatest things. What woman will you find, Though of this age the wonder and the fame On whom his leisure will vouchsafe an eye Of fond desire? Or should she, confident, As sitting queen ador'd on Beauty's throne, Descend with all her winning charms begirt To enamour, as the zone of Venus once Wrought that effect on Jove, so fables tell; How would one look from his majestick brow, Seated as on the top of Virtue's hill, Discountenance her despis'd, and put to rout All her array; her female pride deject, Or turn to reverent awe! for Beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds
Led captive; cease to admire, and all her plumes
Fall flat, and shrink into a trivial toy,
every sudden slighting quite abash'd. Therefore with manlier objects we must try His constancy: with such as have more show Of worth, of honour, glory, and popular praise, Rocks, whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd; Or that which only seems to satisfy
Lawful desires of nature, not beyond ;
And now I know he hungers, where no food Is to be found, in the wide wilderness:
The rest commit to me; I shall let pass
No advantage, and his strength as oft assay.
He ceas'd, and heard their grant in loud acclaim;
Then forthwith to him takes a chosen band
Of Spirits, likest to himself in guile, To be at hand, and at his beck appear,
If cause were to unfold some active scene Of various persons, each to know his part: Then to the desart takes with these his flight; Where, still from shade to shade, the Son of God After forty days fasting had remain'd,
Now hungering first, and to himself thus said.
Where will this end? four times ten days I've pass'd
Wandering this woody maze, and human food
Nor tasted, nor had appetite; that fast
To virtue I impute not, or count part
Of what I suffer here; if nature need not, Or God support nature with repast
Though needing, what praise is it to endure? But now I feel I hunger, which declares Nature hath need of what she asks; yet God Can satisfy that need some other way, Though hunger still remain; so it remain Without this body's wasting, I content me, And from the sting of famine fear no harm : Nor mind it, fed with better thoughts, that feed Me hungering more to do my Father's will.
It was the hour of night, when thus the Son Commun'd in silent walk, then laid him down Under the hospitable covert nigh
Of trees thick interwoven; there he slept, And dream'd, as appetite is wont to dream, Of meats and drinks, nature's refreshment sweet: Him thought, he by the brook of Cherith stood, And saw the ravens with their horny beaks Food to Elijah bringing, even and morn, Though ravenous, taught to abstain from what they brought:
He saw the Prophet also, how he fled Into the desart, and how there he slept Under a juniper; then how awak'd He found his supper on the coals prepar'd, And by the Angel was bid rise and eat, And eat the second time after repose, The strength whereof suffic'd him forty days: Sometimes that with Elijah he partook
Or as a guest with Daniel at his pulse.
Thus wore out night, and now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high towering to descry The Morn's approach, and greet her with his song:
As lightly from his grassy couch up rose Our Saviour, and found all was but a dream Fasting he went to sleep, and fasting wak'd. Up to a hill anon his steps he rear'd,
From whose high top to ken the prospect round, If cottage were in view, sheep-cote, or herd; But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw; Only in a bottom saw a pleasant grove, With chant of tuneful birds resounding loud:: Thither he bent his way, determin'd there To rest at noon, and enter'd soon the shade High-roof'd, and walks beneath, and alleys brown, That open'd in the midst a woody scene; Nature's own work it seem'd, Nature taught Art, And, to a superstitious eye, the haunt
Of Wood-Gods andWood-Nymphs: he view'dit round When suddenly a man before him stood; Not rustick as before, but seemlier clad,
As one in city, or court, or palace bred,
And with fair speech these words to him address'd. With granted leave officious I return,
But much more wonder that the Son of God In this wild solitude so long should bide, Of all things destitute; and, well I know, Not without hunger. Others of some note, As story tell, have trod this wilderness; The fugitive bond-woman, with her son Out-cast Nebaioth, yet found here relief By a providing Angel; all the race
Of Israel here had famish'd, had not God Rain'd from Heaven manna; and that Prophet bold, Native of Thebez, wandering here was fed
Twice by a voice inviting him to eat:
Of thee these forty days none hath regard, Forty and more deserted here indeed.
To whom thus Jesus, What conclud'st thou hence? They all had need; I, as thou seest, have none. How hast thou hunger then? Satan replied. Tell me, if food were now before thee set, Would'st thou not eat?-Thereafter as I like The giver, answer'd Jesus-Why should that Cause thy refusal? said the subtle Fiend. Hast thou not right to all created things? Owe not all creatures, by just right to thee Duty and service, nor to stay till bid,
But tender all their power? Nor mention I Meats by the law unclean, or offer'd first To idols, those young Daniel could refuse; Nor proffer'd by an enemy, though who
Would scruple that, with want oppress'd? Behold, Nature asham'd, or, better to express,
Troubled, that thou shouldst hunger, hath purvey'd From all the elements her choicest store,
To treat thee, as beseems, and as her Lord,
With honour only deign to sit and eat.
He spake no dream; for, as his words had end,
Our Saviour lifting up his eyes beheld, In ample space under the broadest shade, A table richly spread, in regal mode, With dishes pil'd, and meats of noblest sort
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