Light from above, from the fountain of light,
No other doctrine needs, though granted true;
But thefe are falfe, or little elfe but dreams,
Conjectures, fancies, built on nothing firm.
The first and wifeft of them all profefs'd
To know this only, that he nothing knew;
The next to fabling fell, and fmooth conceits;
A third fort doubted all things, though plain fenfe
Others in virtue plac'd felicity,

But virtue join'd with riches and long life,
In corporal pleasure he, and careless cafe:
The Stoic laft in philosophic pride

By him call'd virtue; and his virtuous man,
Wife, perfect in himself, and all poffeffing
Equal to God, oft fhames not to prefer,
As fearing God nor man, contemning all
Wealth, pleasure, pain or torment, death and life,
Which when he lifts, he leaves, or boasts he can,
For all his tedious talk is but vain boast,
Or fubtle shifts conviction to evade.

Alas what can they teach, and not mif-lead;
Ignorant of themselves, of God much more,
And how the world began, and how man fell
Degraded by himself, on grace depending?
Much of the foul they talk, but all awry,
And in themselves feek virtue, and to themselves
All glory arrogate, to God give none,
Rather accufe him under ufual names,
Fortune and fate, as one regardless quite
Of mortal things. Who therefore seeks in these
True wisdom, finds her not, or by delufion

Asinu

Far worse, her false resemblance only meets
An empty cloud. However many books, he sav
Wife men have faid are wearifom; who reads at m
Inceffantly, and to his reading brings notes on mtD
A fpirit and judgment equal or fuperior, Dewoi bnÄ
(And what he brings, what needs he elsewhere feek)
Uncertain and unfettled ftill remains unratsastu zÅ
Deep verft in books and shallow in himself, bilo odT
Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys, rein modi að
And trifles for choice matters, worth a fpunge; ed Ɛ
As children gath'ring pebbles on the fhore.ch nị
Or if I would delight my private hours

With mufic or with poem, where for foon in MI
As in our native language can I find

That folace? all our law and story strew'desq; ue With hymns, our pfalms with artful terms infcrib'd, Our Hebrew fongs and harps in Babylon,

That pleas'd fo well our victors ear, declare

That rather Greece from us these arts deriv'd; congeni Ill imitated, while they loudeft fing

The vices of their deities, and their own de gate 10 In fable, hymn, or fong, fo perfonating in the stW. Their gods ridiculous, and themselves past shame.co Remove the fwelling epithets thick laid words bo A As varnish on a harlot's cheek; the reft,

Thin fown with aught of profit or delight, low of
Will far be found unworthy to compare

With Sion's fongs, to all true tafts excelling,
Where God is prais'd aright, and god-like men
The holieft of holies, and his faints:

Such are from God infpir'd, not such from thee;

Unless where motal virtue is exprefs'da
By light of nature not in all quite loft.
Their orators thou then extoll'ft, as thofe
The top of eloquence, ftatifts indeed,
And lovers of their country, as may feem;
But herein to our prophets far beneath,
As men divinely taught, and better teaching
The folid rules of civil government,

In their majestic unaffected file,

Than all the pratory of Greece and Rome.
In them is plainest taught, aud eafieft learnt,
What makes a nation happy, and keeps it fo,
What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat;
These only with our law best form a king.

So fpake the Son of God; but fatan now
Quite at a lofs, for all his darts were spent,
Thus to our Saviour with ftern brow reply'd.
Since neither wealth, nor honour, arms nor arts
Kingdom nor empire pleases thee, nor aught
By me propos'd in life contemplative,
Or active, tended on by glory, or fame,
What doft thou in this world? the wilderness
For thee is fitteft place, I found thee there,
And thither will return thee, yet remember
What I foretel thee, foon thou fhalt have caufe
To wish thou never hadt rejected thus

Nicely or cautiously my offer'd aid,

Which would have fet thee in fhort time with eafe
On David's throne, or throne of all the world,
Now at full age, fulness of time, thy feafon
When prophecies of thee are beft fulfill'd.

Now contrary, if I read aught in heav'n, ****
Or heav'n write aught of fate, by what the flang
Voluminous, or fingle characters,

In their conjunction met, give me to fpell,
Sorrows and labours, oppofition, hate,
Attends thee, fcorns, reproaches, injuries,
Violence and ftripes, and laftly cruel death;

A kingdom they portend thee, but what kingdom,
Real or allegoric I difcern not,

Nor when, eternal fure, as without end, Gre
Without beginning; for no date perfixt,
Directs me in the ftarry rubric fet. ad ape

So faying he took (for still he knew his pow'r
Not yet expir'd) and to the wilderness
Brought back the Son of God, and left him there,
Feigning to disappear. Darknefs now rofe,
As day-light funk, and brought in lowring night
Her fhad'wy offspring, unfubftantial both,
Privation meer of light and absent day,

Our Saviour meek and with untroubled minda 266

After his aery jaunt, though hurry'd fore,

Hungry and cold betook him to his reft,

Wherever, under fome concourfe of fhades (12.ony
Whole branching arms thick intertwin'd might field
From dews and damps of night his shelter'd head,lai
But shelter'd slept in vain, for at his head
The tempter watch'd, and foon with ugly dreams
Disturb'd his fleep, and either tropic now on GD
'Gan thunder, and both ends of heav'n the clouds
From many a horrid rift abortive pour'd us
Fierce rain with lightning mixt, water with fire

In ruin reconcil'd: nor flept the winds
Within their ftony caves, but rush'd abroad
From the four hinges of the world, and fell
On the vext wilderness, whofe tallest pines,
Though rooted deep as high, and fturdieft oaks
Bow'd their stiff-necks, loaden with ftormy blafts,
Or torn up sheer: ill waft thou fhrouded then,
O patient Son of God, yet only foodst
Unfhaken; nor yet ftaid the terror there,
Infernal ghosts, and hellish furies, round

Environ'd thee, fome howl'd, fome yell'd, fome fhrick'd,
Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou
Sat'ft unappal'd in calm and finless peace.

Thus pafs'd the night fo foul, till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray;
Who with her radiant finger ftill'd the roar
Of thunder, chas'd the clouds, and laid the winds,
And grifly fpeétres which the fiend had rais'd
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.
And now the fun with more effectual beams

Had chear'd the face of earth, and dry'd the wet
From drooping plant, or drooping 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 fweet return of morn:
Nor yet amidst this joy and brightest morn
Was abfent, after all his mischief done,
The prince of darkness, glad would also feem
Of this fair change, and to our Saviour came,
Yet with no new device, they all were spent,
F