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In favage Wilderness, wherefore deprive
All Earth her wonder at thy Acts, thy felf
The fame and glory, glory the reward
That fole excites to high attempts, the flame
Of moft erected Spirits, moft temper'd pure
Etherial, who all pleasures else despise,
All treafures and all gain esteem as drofs,
And dignities and pow'rs all but the highest?
Thy years are ripe, and over-ripe, the fon
Of Macedonian Philip had ere these
Won Afia and the Throne of Cyrus held

At his difpofe, young Scipio had brought down
The Carthaginian pride, young Pompey quell'd
The Pontic King, and in triumph had rode.
Yet years, and to ripe years judgment mature,
Quench not the thirst of glory, but augment.
Great Julius, whom now all the world admires,
The more he grew in years, the more enflam'd
With glory, wept that he had liv'd fo long
Inglorious: But thou yet art not too late.

To whom our Saviour calmly thus reply'd.
Thou neither doft perfwade me to feek wealth
For Empire's fake, nor Empire to affect
For glory's fake, by all thy argument.
For what is glory but the blaze of Fame,
The peoples praise, if always praise unmixt?
And what the people but a herd confus'd,

A mifcellaneous rabble, who extol

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Things vulgar, and well weigh'd scarce worth the praise, They praise and they admire they know not what ;

And know not whom, but as one leads the other;

And what delight to be by fuch extoll'd,

To live upon their tongues and be their talk,

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Of whom to be despis'd were no small praise ?
His lot who dares be fingularly good.
Th' intelligent among them and the wife
Are few, and glory fcarce of few is rais'd.
This is true glory and renown, when God

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Looking

Looking on th' Earth, with approbation marks
The juft man, and divulges him through Heav'n
To all his Angels, who with true applause

Recount his praises; thus he did to Job,

When to extend his fame, through Heav'n and Earth,
As thou to thy reproach may'ft well remember,

He ask'd thee, haft thou seen my servant Job?
Famous he was in Heav'n, on Earth less known;

Where glory is falfe glory, attributed

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To things not glorious, men not worthy of fame. 70 They err who count it glorious to fubdue

By Conqueft far and wide, to over-run

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Large Countries, and in field great Battles win,
Great Cities by affault: what do thefe Worthies,
But to rob and spoil, burn, flaughter, and enslave 75
Peaceable Nations, neighbouring, or remote,
Made Captive, yet deserving freedom more
Than those their Conquerors, who leave behind
Nothing but ruin wherefoe'er they rove,
And all the flourishing works of peace destroy,
Then fwell with pride, and must be titled Gods,
Great Benefactors of mankind, Deliverers,
Worship'd with Temple, Prieft and Sacrifice;
One is the Son of Jove, of Mars the other,
Till Conqu❜ror Death discover them scarce men,
Rolling in brutish vices, and deform'd,
Violent or shameful death their due reward.
But if there be in glory aught of good,
It may by means far different be attain'd
Without ambition, war, or violence;
By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent,
By patience, temperance; I mention still
Him whom thy wrongs with Saintly patience born,
Made famous in a Land and times obfcure;
Who names not now with honour patient Job?
Poor Socrates (who next more memorable?)
By what he taught and fuffer'd for fo doing,
For truth's fake fuffering death unjust, lives now

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Equal

Equal in fame to proudelt Conquerors.

Yet if for fame and glory aught be done,
Aught fuffer'd; if young African for fame
His wafted Country freed from Punic rage,
The deed becomes unprais'd, the man at least,
And loses, though but verbal, his reward.
Shall I feek glory then, as vain Men seek
Oft not deferv'd? I feek not mine, but his
Who fent me, and thereby witnefs whence I am.
To whom the Tempter murm'ring thus reply'd.
Think not fo flight of glory; therein least
Resembling thy great Father: hé seeks glory,
And for his glory all things made, all things
Orders and Governs, not content in Heav'n
By all his Angels glorify'd, requires
Glory from men, from all men good or bad,
Wife or unwife, no difference, no exemption;
Above all Sacrifice, or hallow'd gift
Glory he requires, and glory he receives
Promifcuous from all Nations, Jew, or Greek,
Or Barbareus, nor exception hath declar'd;
From us his Foes pronounc'd glory he exacts.
To whom our Saviour fervently reply'd.
And reason; fince his word all things produc'd,
Though chiefly not for glory as prime end,
But to fhew forth his goodness, and impart
His good communicablet' every foul
Freely; of whom what could he lefs expect
Than glory and benediction, that is thanks,
The flightest, eafieft, readicft compence
From them who could return him nothing else,
And not returning what would likelieft render

Contempt instead, dishonour, obloquy?

Hard recompence, unfuitable return

For fo much good, fo much beneficence.

But why should man feek glory? who of his own
Hath nothing, and to whom nothing belongs
But condemnation, ignominy, and shame?

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Whe

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Who for so many benefits receiv'd

Turn'd recreant to God, ingrate and false,
And fo of all true good himself despoil'd,
Yet, facrilegious, to himself would take
That which to God alone of right belongs;
Yet fo much bounty is in God, fuch grace,
That who advance his glory, not their own,
Them he himself to glory will advance.

So fpake the Son of God; and here again
Satan had not to answer, but stood ftruck
With guilt of his own fin, for he himself
Infatiable of glory had loft all,
Yet of another Plea bethought him foon.

Of glory as thou wilt, said he, so deem,
Worth or not worth their seeking, let it pass:
But to a Kingdom thou art born, ordain'd
To fit upon thy Father David's Throne;
By Mother's fide thy Father though thy right
Be now in pow'rful hands, that will not part
Eafily from poffeffion won with arms;
Judea now and all the promis'd land,

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The Temple, oft the Law with foul affronts,
Abominations father, as did once
Antiochus and thinkft thou to regain
Thy right by fitting ftill or thus retiring?
So did not Macchabæus: he indeed
Retir'd unto the Defart, but with arms;
And o'er a mighty King so oft prevail'd;

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That by ftrong hand his Family obtain'd,

Tho' Priests, the Crown, and David's throne ufurp'd,

With Modin and her fuburbs once content.

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If Kingdom move thee not, let move thee Zeal
And Duty; Zeal and Duty are not flow;
But on Occafion's forelock watchful wait.
They themselves rather are occafion beft,

Zeal

Zeal of thy Father's house, Duty to free

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Thy Country from her Heathen fervitude;
So fhalt thou best fulfil, best verifie

The Prophets old, who fung thy endless reign,
The happier reign the fooner it begins,

Reign then; what canft thou better do the while?

To whom our Saviour answer thus return'd.
All things are beft fulfill'd in their due time,
And time there is for all things, Truth hath faid
If of my reign prophetic Writ hath told,
That it shall never end, fo when begin

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The Father in his purpose hath decreed,

He in whofe hand all times and feasons roll.

What if he hath decreed that I shall firft

Betry'd in humble ftate, and things adverse,

By tribulations, injuries, infults,

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Contempts, and fcorns, and fnares, and violence,

Suffering, abftaining, quietly expecting,

Without diftruft or doubt, that he may know

What I can fuffer, how obey? who beft

Can fuffer, beft can do; beft reign, who first
Well hath obey'd; juft trial ere I merit
My exaltation without change or end.
But what concerns it thee when I begin
My everlasting Kingdom, why art thou
Solicitous, what moves thy inquifition?
Know'st thou not that my rising is thy fall,
And my promotion will be thy deftruction?
To whom the Tempter inly rack'd reply'd:
Let that come when it comes; all hope is loft
Of my reception into grace; what worse?
For where no hope is left, is left no fear;
If there be worse, the expectation more
Of worse torments me than the feeling can.
I would be at the worft; worft is my Port,
My harbour and my ultimate repofe,
The end I would attain, my final good.
My error was my error, and my crime

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My