Perused him, then with words thus utter'd spake.
Sir, what ill chance hath brought thee to this
So far from path or road of men, who pass [place,
In troop or caravan? for single, none

Durst ever, who return'd, and dropp'd not here
His carcass, pined with hunger & with drought.
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
To town or village nigh, nighest is far, [forth
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 stubs, to thirst inured
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
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 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 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 then suggest to me distrust, Knowing who I am, as I know who thou art?"

Whom thus answer'd the Arch-fiend, now undis""Tis true I am that spirit unfortunate, [guised. Who leagued 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 confined 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 proposed
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 he bids I do : though I have lost
Much lustre of my native brightness, lost
To be beloved 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, & approach thee, whom I know
Declared the Son of God, to hear attent
Thy wisdom, & behold thy Godlike 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, & with them dwell
Co-partner 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 aud woe,

At first it may be; but long since with woe
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 fallen shall be restored, I never more."

To whom our Saviour sternly thus replied.
"Deservedly thou grievest, composed of lies
From the beginning, and in lies wilt end;
Who boast'st release from Hell, & leave to come
Into the Heaven of Heavens: thou comest indeed
As a poor miserable captive thrall

Comes to the place, where he before had sat,
Among the prime in splendour; now deposed,

Ejected, emptied, gazed, 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, moved 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 is thy sustenance, thy food.
Yet thou pretend'st to truth; all oracles
By thee are given, & 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 [truth,
To thee not known, whence hast thou then thy
But from him, or his Angels president

In every province, who, themselves disdaining
T'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
The Gentiles; henceforth oracles are ceas'd,
And thou no more with pomp and sacrifice
Shalt be inquir'd at Delphos, or elsewhere;
At least in vain, for they shall find thee mute
God hath now sent his living oracle

Into the world to teach his final will,
And sends his Spirit of truth henceforth to dwell
In pious hearts, an inward oracle

To all truth requisite for men to know."

So spake our Saviour; but the subtle Fiend, Though inly stung with anger and disdain, Dissembled, & this anwer smooth return'd.

Sharply thou hast insisted on rebuke, And urg'd me hard with doings, which not will But misery hath wrested from me. Where Easily canst thou find one miserable, And not enforc'd ofttimes to part from truth, If it may stand him more in stead to lie, Say and unsay, feign, flatter, or abjure? But thou art plac'd above me, thou art Lord; From thee I can, and must submiss, endure Check or reproof, and glad to 'scape so quit. Hard are the ways of truth, & rough to walk, Smooth on the tongue discours'd, pleasing to the And tunable as sylvan pipe or song; What wonder then if I delight to hear Her dictates from thy mouth? Most men admire Virtue, who follow not her lore: permit me To hear thee when I come, (since no man comes,) And talk at least, though I despair to attain. Thy Father, who is holy, wise, and pure, Suffers the hypocrite or atheous priest To tread his sacred courts, and minister About his altar, handling holy things, Praying or vowing; and vouchsaf'd his voice To Balaam reprobate, a prophet yet Inspir'd disdain not such access to me."

[ear,

To whom our Saviour, with unalter'd brow. "Thy coming hither, though I know thy scope, I bid not, or forbid; do as thou find'st Permission from above; thou canst not more." He added not; and Satan, bowing low His gray dissimulation, disappear'd Into thin air diffus'd: for now began Nght with her sullen wings to double-shade The desert; fowls in their clay nests were couch'd; And now wild beasts came forth the woods to roam.

THE END OF BOOK I.

U