But, sheltered, slept in vain; for at his head The Tempter watched, and soon with ugly dreams Disturbed his sleep. And either tropic now 'Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven; the clouds From many a horrid rift abortive poured Fierce rain with lightning mixed, water with fire, In ruin reconciled; nor slept the winds Within their stony caves, but rushed abroad From the four hinges of the world, and fell On the vexed wilderness, whose tallest pines, Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks, Bowed their stiff necks, loaden with stormy blasts, Or torn up sheer. Ill wast thou shrouded then, O patient Son of God, yet only stood'st Unshaken! Nor yet staid the terror there:
Infernal ghosts and hellish furies round Environed thee; some howled, some yelled, some shrieked, Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou Sat'st unappalled in calm and sinless peace.
Thus passed the night so foul, till Morning fair Came forth with pilgrim steps, in amice grey, Who with her radiant finger stilled the roar Of thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds, And griesly spectres, which the Fiend had raised To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.
And now the sun with more effectual beams Had cheered the face of earth, and dried the wet From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds, Who all things now behold more fresh and green, After a night of storm so ruinous, Cleared up their choicest notes in bush and spray, To gratulate the sweet return of morn.
Nor yet, amidst this joy and brightest morn, Was absent, after all his mischief done, The Prince of Darkness; glad would also seem Of this fair change, and to our Saviour came;
Yet with no new device (they all were spent), Rather by this his last affront resolved, Desperate of better course, to vent his rage And mad despite to be so oft repelled.
Him walking on a sunny hill he found, Backed on the north and west by a thick wood;
Out of the wood he starts in wonted shape, And in a careless mood thus to him said:--
"Fair morning yet betides thee, Son of God, After a dismal night. I heard the wrack, As earth and sky would mingle; but myself Was distant; and these flaws, though mortals fear them, As dangerous to the pillared frame of Heaven, Or to the Earth's dark basis underneath, Are to the main as inconsiderable And harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneeze To man's less universe, and soon are gone.
Yet, as being ofttimes noxious where they light On man, beast, plant, wasteful and turbulent, Like turbulencies in the affairs of men, Over whose heads they roar, and seem to point, They oft fore-signify and threaten ill.
This tempest at this desert most was bent;
Of men at thee, for only thou here dwell'st.
Did I not tell thee, if thou didst reject The perfect season offered with my aid To win thy destined seat, but wilt prolong All to the push of fate, pursue thy way Of gaining David's throne no man knows when (For both the when and how is nowhere told), Thou shalt be what thou art ordained, no doubt;
For Angels have proclaimed it, but concealing The time and means? Each act is rightliest done Not when it must, but when it may be best.
If thou observe not this, be sure to find What I foretold thee--many a hard assay Of dangers, and adversities, and pains, Ere thou of Israel's sceptre get fast hold;
Whereof this ominous night that closed thee round, So many terrors, voices, prodigies, May warn thee, as a sure foregoing sign."
So talked he, while the Son of God went on, And staid not, but in brief him answered thus:--"Me worse than wet thou find'st not; other harm Those terrors which thou speak'st of did me none.
I never feared they could, though noising loud And threatening nigh: what they can do as signs Betokening or ill-boding I contemn As false portents, not sent from God, but thee;
Who, knowing I shall reign past thy preventing, Obtrud'st thy offered aid, that I, accepting, At least might seem to hold all power of thee, Ambitious Spirit! and would'st be thought my God;
And storm'st, refused, thinking to terrify Me to thy will! Desist (thou art discerned, And toil'st in vain), nor me in vain molest."
To whom the Fiend, now swoln with rage, replied:--"Then hear, O Son of David, virgin-born!
For Son of God to me is yet in doubt.
Of the Messiah I have heard foretold By all the Prophets; of thy birth, at length Announced by Gabriel, with the first I knew, And of the angelic song in Bethlehem field, On thy birth-night, that sung thee Saviour born.
From that time seldom have I ceased to eye Thy infancy, thy childhood, and thy youth, Thy manhood last, though yet in private bred;
Till, at the ford of Jordan, whither all Flocked to the Baptist, I among the rest (Though not to be baptized), by voice from Heaven Heard thee pronounced the Son of God beloved.
Thenceforth I thought thee worth my nearer view And narrower scrutiny, that I might learn In what degree or meaning thou art called The Son of God, which bears no single sense.
The Son of God I also am, or was;
And, if I was, I am; relation stands:
All men are Sons of God; yet thee I thought In some respect far higher so declared.
