Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray,
Who with her radiant finger still'd the roar
Of thunder, chas'd the clouds, and laid the winds,
And grisly spectres, which the Fiend had rais'd
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.
And now the sun with more effectual beams

430

428. Who with her radiant finger still'd the roar

Of thunder, chas'd the clouds, &c.]

This is a very pretty imitation
of a passage in the first Æneid
of Virgil, where Neptune is re-
presented with his trident lay-
ing the storm which Eolus had
raised, ver. 142.

Sic ait, et dicto citius tumida æquora
placat,
Collectasque fugat nubes, solemque
reducit.

There is the greater beauty in
There is the greater beauty in
the English poet, as the scene
he is describing under this charm-
ing figure is perfectly consistent
with the course of nature, no-
thing being more common than
by a pleasant serene morning.
to see a stormy night succeeded
Thyer.

We have here the ῥοδοδάκτυλος Homer and Hesiod; but the Has, the rosy-fingered Aurora of image, which in them is only pleasing, is here almost sublime. Dunster.

injudicious to retail this popular 430. And grisly spectres,] Very superstition in this place. War

burton.

432. And now the sun &c.] the bloom of Milton's youthful There is in this description all fancy. See an evening scene of the same kind in the Paradise Lost, ii. 488.

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 resolv'd,
Desp❜rate 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,

435

440

445

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 dang'rous to the pillar'd frame of heaven,

455

Mr. Dunster may be right in this; but there is perhaps an obscurity as to the degree of concealment assumed by Satan at different periods in the course of these temptations, which we shall in vain endeavour to clear up. At first indeed he appears disguised as an aged man in rural weeds, b. i. 314; and it would seem from v. 498. that he retained that disguise till his disappearance, at the end of the first book. But in the interval he had answered undisguised,

'Tis true I am that spirit unfor tunate, &c. b. i. 358.

So again, at his next appearance he stood before Christ as a man, not rustic as before, but seemlier clad, &c. b. ii. 298. yet he accosts Jesus under his former character,

With granted leave officious I return, &c. ii. 301.

As indeed his super-human power was displayed in the sudden appearance and disappearance of the regal banquet, 337, 401. as well as by his conveying our Lord to the specular mount, and back again through

the air to the wilderness, b. iii. 251, 394. And he had a second time openly declared his proper character, when he proposed the conditions on which he would be

450

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 oft times noxious where they light
On man, beast, plant, wasteful and turbulent,
Like turbulencies in th' 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 destin'd 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 no where 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,

467. Did I not tell thee, &c.] This sentence is dark and perplexed, having no proper exit.

467. The whole passage, from v. 467 to 483, should be compared with the conclusion of the previous conversation, v. 368393, to which Satan manifestly refers. It will then be evident that the sense of the passage is sufficiently complete, and that Satan now repeats what he had before expressed, his conviction

460

465

470

475

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 clos'd thee round,
So many terrors, voices, prodigies

May warn thee, as a sure fore-going sign.

So talk'd he while the Son of God went on And stay'd 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 threat'ning 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 offer'd aid, that I accepting
At least might seem to hold all pow'r of thee,
Ambitious Spirit, and would'st be thought my God, 495
And storm'st refus'd, 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;

500. Then hear, O Son of Duvid, &c.] This last speech of Satan is particularly worthy of our notice. The Fiend "swoln with rage" at the repeated failure of his attacks, breaks out into the language of gross insult, professing to doubt whether our Lord, whom he had before frequently addressed as the Son of God, is in any way entitled to that appellation. From this wantonly

480

485

4.90

500

blasphemous obloquy he still recovers himself, and offers with his usual art a qualification of what he had last said, and a justification of his persisting in further attempts on the divine person, by whom he had been so constantly foiled. These are the masterly discriminating touches, with which the poet has admirably drawn the character of the Tempter: the general colouring