Sir, what ill chance has brought thee to this place
So far from path or road of men, who pass
In Troop or Caravan, for fingle none
Durft ever, who return'd, and dropt not here
His Carcass, pin'd with hunger and with droughth. 325
I ask the rather, and the more admire,
For that to me thou feem'ft the man, whom late
Our new baptizing Prophet at the Ford
Of Jordan honour'd fo, and call'd thee Son
Of God; I faw and heard, for we fometimes
Who dwell this wilde, constrain'd by want, come forth To Town or Village nigh (nigheft is far)
Where ought we hear, and curious are to hear,
What happ'ns 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, reply'd the Swain,
What other way I fee not, for we here
Live on tough roots and ftubs, to thirst inur'd
More than the Camel, and to drink go far,
Men to much mifery and hardship born;
But if thou be the Son of God, Command
That out of these hard ftones be made thee Bread;
So fhalt thou fave thy felf and us relieve
With Food, whereof we wretched feldom tafte.
He ended, and the Son of God reply'd.
Think'st thou fuch force in Bread? is it not written
For I difcern 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
Mofes was forty days, nor eat nor drank,
And forty days Elijah without food
Wandred this barren wafte, the fame I now:
Why doft thou then fuggeft to me diftruft,
Knowing who I am, as I know who thou art?
Whom thus answer'd th' Arch Fiend now undisguis'd.
'Tis true, I am that Spirit unfortunate,
Who leagu'd with millions more in rash revolt
Kept not my happy Station, but was driv'n
With them from blifs to the bottomlefs deep,
Yet to that hideous place not fo confin'd
By rigour unconniving, but that oft
Leaving my dolorous Prifon I enjoy
Large Liberty to round this Globe of Earth,
Or range in th' Air, nor from the Heav'n of Heav'ns
Hath he excluded my refort fometimes.
I came among the Sons of God, when he
Gave up into my hands Uzzean Job
To prove him, and illuftrate his high worth;
And when to all his Angels he propos'd
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 deftruction, as I had in charge,
For what he bids I do; though I have loft
Much lufture of my native brightness, loft
To be belov'd of God, I have not loft
To love, at least contemplate and admire
What I fee excellent in good, or fair,
Or virtuous, I should so have loft all fenfe.
What can be then lefs in me than defire
To see thee and approach thee, whom I know
Declar'd the Son of God, to hear attent
Thy wisdom, and behold thy God-like 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 loft not what I loft, rather by them
I gain'd what I have gain'd, and with them dwell
Copartner in thefe Regions of the World,
If not difpofer; lend them oft my aid,
Oft my advice by prefages and figns,
And answers, oracles, portents and dreams,
Whereby they may direct their future life.
Envy they fay excites me, thus to gain
Companions of my mifery and wo.
At first it may be; but long fince with wo
Never acquainted, now I feel by proof,
That fellowship in pain divides not smart,
Nor lightens ought each mans peculiar load.
Small confolation then, were man adjoin'd:
This wounds me moft (what can it lef) that Man
Man fall'n fhall be reftor'd, I never more.
To whom our Saviour fternly thus reply'd :
Defervedly thou griev'ft, compos'd of lies
From the beginning, and in lies wilt end;
Who boaft'ft release from Hell, and leave to come
Into the Heav'n of Heav'ns; thou com'ft indeed, 410
As a poor miferable captive thrall,
Comes to the place where he before had fat
Among the Prime in Splendor, now depos'd,
Ejected, emptied, gaz'd, unpitied, fhun'd,
A fpectacle of ruin or of scorn
To all the Hoft of Heav'n; the happy place
Imports to thee no happiness, no joy,
Rather inflames thy torment, representing
Loft blifs, to thee no more communicable,
So never more in Hell than when in Heav'n.
But thou art ferviceable to Heav'ns King.
Wilt thou impute t' obedience what thy fear
Extorts, or pleasure to do ill excites ?
What but thy malice mov'd thee to misdeem
Of righteous Job, then cruelly to afflict him
With all inflations, but his patience won ?
The other fervice was thy chofen task,
To be a liar in four hundred mouths;
For lying is thy fuftenance, thy food.
Yet thou pretend'ft to truth; all Oracles
By thee are giv'n, and what confeft more true
Among the Nations that hath been thy craft,
By mixing fomewhat 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 confulting at thy fhrine
Return'd the wifer, or the more inftruct
To fly or follow what concern'd him most,
And run not fooner to his fatal fnare?
For God hath juft ly giv'n the Nations up
To thy Delufions; juftly, fince they fell
Idolatrous, but when his purpofe is
Among them to declare his Providence
To thee not known, whence haft thou then thy truth,
But from him or his Angels Prefident
In ev'ry Province, who themselves difdaining
T' approach thy Temples, give thee in command
What to the smallest tittle thou shalt fay
Tothy Adorers; thou with trembling fear,
Or like a fawning Parafite obey'ft;
Then to thy felf afcrib'ft the truth foretold.
But this thy glory fhall be foon retrench'd;
No more fhalt thou by oracling abuse
The Gentiles; henceforth Oracles are ceas'd,
And thou no more with Pomp and Sacrifice
Shalt be enquir'd at Delphos or elfe-where,
At least in vain, for they fhall find thee mute.
God hath now fent his loving Oracle
Into the World to teach his final will,
And fends his Spirit of Truth henceforth to dwell
In pious Hearts, and inward Oracle
To all truth requifite for men to know.
So fpake our Saviour; but the fubtle Fiend,
Though inly ftung with anger and disdain,
Diffembled, and this Anfwer smooth return'd.
Sharply thou haft infifted on rebuke,
And urg'd me hard with doings, which not will
But mifery hath wrefted from me; where
Easily canft thou find one miferable.
And not inforc'd oft-times to part from truth;
If it may ftand him more in ftead to lie,
Say and unfay, feign, flatter, or abjure!
But thou art plac'd above me, thou art Lord;
From thee I can and muft fubmifs endure
Check or reproof, and glad t' escape so quit.
Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk,
Smooth on the tongue difcours'd, pleafing to th' ear,
And tuncable as Silvan Pipe or Song;
What wonder then if I delight to hear
Her dictates from thy mouth? moft men admire
Virtue, who follow not her lore: permit me
To hear thee when I come (fince no man comes)
And talk at leaft, tho' I defpair t' attain.
Thy Father, who is holy, wife and pure,
Suffers the Hypocrite or Atheous Priest
To tread his Sacred Courts, and minifter
About his Altar, handling holy things,
Praying or vowing, and voutsaf'd his voice
To Balaam Reprobate, a Prophet yet
Infpir'd; difdain not fuch access to me.
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
Permiffion from above; thou can'ft not more.
He added not; and Satan bowing low
His gray diffimulation, disappear'd
Into thin Air diffus'd: for now began
Night with her fullen wings to double-shade
The Defart, Fowls in their clay nefts were couch'd:
And now wild Beafts came forth the Woods to roam.
The End of the First Book.
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