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Unshaken! Nor yet staid the terror there;

Infernal ghosts and hellish furies round

Environ'd thee, some howl'd, some yell'd, some shriek'd,

Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou
Sat'st unappall'd in calm and sinless peace!

Thus pass'd the night so foul, till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps, in amice gray,
Who, with her radiant finger, still'd the roar
Of thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds,
And grisly spectres, which the fiend had raised
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.
And now the sun with more effectual beams
Had cheer'd 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,

Clear'd 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 repell❜d.
Him walking on a sunny hill he found,
Back'd 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 pillar'd 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 offer'd 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 ordain'd, no doubt ?
For angels have proclaim'd 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 talk'd he, while the Son of God went on, And staid not, but in brief him answer'd thus:

"Me worse than wet thou find'st not: other harm
Those terrors, which thou speak'st of, did me none;
I never fear'd 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,
Obtrudest thy offer'd aid, that I, accepting,
At least might seem to hold all power of thee,
Ambitious spirit! and wouldst be thought my god;
And storm'st, refused, thinking to terrify
Me to thy will! Desist (thou art discern'd,
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 had 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
Flock to the Baptist, I, among the rest

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