THE FOURTH BOOK

Perplexed and troubled at his bad success

The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,

Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope

So oft, and the persuasive rhetoric

That sleeked his tongue, and won so much on Eve,

So little here, nay lost. But Eve was Eve;

This far his over-match, who, self-deceived

And rash, beforehand had no better weighed

The strength he was to cope with, or his own.

But-as a man who had been matchless held

In cunning, over-reached where least he thought,

To salve his credit, and for very spite,

Still will be tempting him who foils him still,

And never cease, though to his shame the more;

Or as a swarm of flies in vintage-time,

About the wine-press where sweet must is poured,

Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound;

Or surging waves against a solid rock,

Though all to shivers dashed, the assault renew,

(Vain battery!) and in froth or bubbles end-

So Satan, whom repulse upon repulse

Met ever, and to shameful silence brought,

Yet gives not o'er, though desperate of success,

And his vain importunity pursues.

He brought our Saviour to the western side

Of that high mountain, whence he might behold

Another plain, long, but in breadth not wide,

Washed by the southern sea, and on the north

To equal length backed with a ridge of hills

That screened the fruits of the earth and seats of men

From cold Septentrion blasts; thence in the midst

Divided by a river, off whose banks

On each side an Imperial City stood,

With towers and temples proudly elevate

On seven small hills, with palaces adorned,

Porches and theatres, baths, aqueducts,

Statues and trophies, and triumphal arcs,

Gardens and groves, presented to his eyes

Above the highth of mountains interposed-

By what strange parallax, or optic skill

Of vision, multiplied through air, or glass

Of telescope, were curious to enquire.

And now the Tempter thus his silence broke:-

"The city which thou seest no other deem

Than great and glorious Rome, Queen of the Earth

So far renowned, and with the spoils enriched

Of nations. There the Capitol thou seest,

Above the rest lifting his stately head

On the Tarpeian rock, her citadel

Impregnable; and there Mount Palatine, 

The imperial palace, compass huge, and high

The structure, skill of noblest architects,

With gilded battlements, conspicuous far,

Turrets, and terraces, and glittering spires.

Many a fair edifice besides, more like

Houses of gods-so well I have disposed

My aerie microscope-thou may'st behold,

Outside and inside both, pillars and roofs

Carved work, the hand of famed artificers

In cedar, marble, ivory, or gold.

Thence to the gates cast round thine eye, and see

What conflux issuing forth, or entering in:

Praetors, proconsuls to their provinces

Hasting, or on return, in robes of state;

Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power;

Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wings;

Or embassies from regions far remote,

In various habits, on the Appian road,

Or on the AEmilian-some from farthest south,

Syene, and where the shadow both way falls,

Meroe, Nilotic isle, and, more to west,

The realm of Bocchus to the Blackmoor sea;

From the Asian kings (and Parthian among these),

From India and the Golden Chersoness,

And utmost Indian isle Taprobane,

Dusk faces with white silken turbants wreathed;

From Gallia, Gades, and the British west;

Germans, and Scythians, and Sarmatians north

Beyond Danubius to the Tauric pool.

All nations now to Rome obedience pay-

To Rome's great Emperor, whose wide domain,

In ample territory, wealth and power,

Civility of manners, arts and arms,

And long renown, thou justly may'st prefer

Before the Parthian. These two thrones except,

The rest are barbarous, and scarce worth the sight,

Shared among petty kings too far removed;

These having shewn thee, I have shewn thee all

The kingdoms of the world, and all their glory.

This Emperor hath no son, and now is old,

Old and lascivious, and from Rome retired

To Capreae, an island small but strong

On the Campanian shore, with purpose there

His horrid lusts in private to enjoy;

Committing to a wicked favourite

All public cares, and yet of him suspicious;

Hated of all, and hating. With what ease,

Endued with regal virtues as thou art,

Appearing, and beginning noble deeds,

Might'st thou expel this monster from his throne,

Now made a sty, and, in his place ascending,

A victor-people free from servile yoke!

And with my help thou may'st; to me the power

Is given, and by that right I give it thee.

Aim, therefore, at no less than all the world;

Aim at the highest; without the highest attained,

Will be for thee no sitting, or not long,

On David's throne, be prophesied what will."

To whom the Son of God, unmoved, replied:-

"Nor doth this grandeur and majestic shew

Of luxury, though called magnificence,

More than of arms before, allure mine eye,

Much less my mind; though thou should'st add to tell

Their sumptuous gluttonies, and gorgeous feasts

On citron tables or Atlantic stone

(For I have also heard, perhaps have read),

Their wines of Setia, Cales, and Falerne,

Chios and Crete, and how they quaff in gold,

Crystal, and myrrhine cups, imbossed with gems

And studs of pearl-to me should'st tell, who thirst

And hunger still. Then embassies thou shew'st

From nations far and nigh! What honour that,

But tedious waste of time, to sit and hear

So many hollow compliments and lies,

Outlandish flatteries? Then proceed'st to talk

Of the Emperor, how easily subdued,

How gloriously. I shall, thou say'st, expel

A brutish monster: what if I withal

Expel a Devil who first made him such?

Let his tormentor, Conscience, find him out;

For him I was not sent, nor yet to free

That people, victor once, now vile and base,

Deservedly made vassal-who, once just,

Frugal, and mild, and temperate, conquered well,

But govern ill the nations under yoke,

Peeling their provinces, exhausted all

By lust and rapine; first ambitious grown

Of triumph, that insulting vanity;

Then cruel, by their sports to blood inured

Of fighting beasts, and men to beasts exposed;

Luxurious by their wealth, and greedier still,

And from the daily Scene effeminate.

What wise and valiant man would seek to free

These, thus degenerate, by themselves enslaved,

Or could of inward slaves make outward free?

Know, therefore, when my season comes to sit

On David's throne, it shall be like a tree

Spreading and overshadowing all the earth,

Or as a stone that shall to pieces dash

All monarchies besides throughout the world;

And of my Kingdom there shall be no end.

Means there shall be to this; but what the means

Is not for thee to know, nor me to tell."

To whom the Tempter, impudent, replied:-

"I see all offers made by me how slight

Thou valuest, because offered, and reject'st.

Nothing will please the difficult and nice,

Or nothing more than still to contradict.

On the other side know also thou that I

On what I offer set as high esteem,

Nor what I part with mean to give for naught,

All these, which in a moment thou behold'st,

The kingdoms of the world, to thee I give

(For, given to me, I give to whom I please),

No trifle; yet with this reserve, not else-

On this condition, if thou wilt fall down,

And worship me as thy superior Lord

(Easily done), and hold them all of me;

For what can less so great a gift deserve?"

Whom thus our Saviour answered with disdain:—

"I never liked thy talk, thy offers less;

Now both abhor, since thou hast dared to utter

The abominable terms, impious condition.

But I endure the time, till which expired

Thou hast permission on me. It is written,

The first of all commandments, 'Thou shalt worship

The Lord thy God, and only Him shalt serve.'

And dar'st thou to the Son of God propound

To worship thee, accursed? now more accursed

For this attempt, bolder than that on Eve,

And more blasphemous; which expect to rue.

The kingdoms of the world to thee were given!

Permitted rather, and by thee usurped;

Other donation none thou canst produce.

If given, by whom but by the King of kings,

God over all supreme? If given to thee,

By thee how fairly is the Giver now

Repaid! But gratitude in thee is lost

Long since. Wert thou so void of fear or shame

As offer them to me, the Son of God—

To me my own, on such abhorred pact,

That I fall down and worship thee as God?

Get thee behind me! Plain thou now appear'st

That Evil One, Satan for ever damned."

To whom the Fiend, with fear abashed, replied:—

"Be not so sore offended, Son of God—

Though Sons of God both Angels are and Men—

If I, to try whether in higher sort

Than these thou bear'st that title, have proposed

What both from Men and Angels I receive,

Tetrarchs of Fire, Air, Flood, and on the Earth

Nations besides from all the quartered winds—

God of this World invoked, and World beneath.

Who then thou art, whose coming is foretold

To me most fatal, me it most concerns.

The trial hath indamaged thee no way,

Rather more honour left and more esteem;

Me naught advantaged, missing what I aimed.

Therefore let pass, as they are transitory,

The kingdoms of this world; I shall no more

Advise thee; gain them as thou canst, or not.

And thou thyself seem'st otherwise inclined

Than to a worldly crown, addicted more

To contemplation and profound dispute;

As by that early action may be judged,

When, slipping from thy mother's eye, thou went'st

Alone into the Temple, there wast found

Among the gravest Rabbies, disputant

On points and questions fitting Moses' chair,

Teaching, not taught. The childhood shews the man,

As morning shews the day. Be famous, then,

By wisdom; as thy empire must extend,

So let extend thy mind o'er all the world

In knowledge; all things in it comprehend.

All knowledge is not couched in Moses' law,

The Pentateuch, or what the Prophets wrote;

The Gentiles also know, and write, and teach

To admiration, led by Nature's light;

And with the Gentiles much thou must converse,

Ruling them by persuasion, as thou mean'st.

Without their learning, how wilt thou with them,

Or they with thee, hold conversation meet?

How wilt thou reason with them, how refute

Their idolisms, traditions, paradoxes?

Error by his own arms is best evinced.

Look once more, ere we leave this specular mount,

Westward, much nearer by south-west; behold

Where on the AEgean shore a city stands,

Built nobly, pure the air and light the soil—

Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts

And Eloquence, native to famous wits

Or hospitable, in her sweet recess,

City or suburban, studious walks and shades.

See there the olive-grove of Academe,

Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird

Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long;

There, flowery hill, Hymettus, with the sound

Of bees' industrious murmur, oft invites

To studious musing; there Ilissus rowls

His whispering stream. Within the walls then view

The schools of ancient sages—his who bred

Great Alexander to subdue the world,

Lyceum there; and painted Stoa next.

There thou shalt hear and learn the secret power

Of harmony, in tones and numbers hit

By voice or hand, and various-measured verse,

AEolian charms and Dorian lyric odes,

And his who gave them breath, but higher sung,

Blind Melesigenes, thence Homer called,

Whose poem Phoebus challenged for his own.

Thence what the lofty grave Tragedians taught

In chorus or iambic, teachers best

Of moral prudence, with delight received

In brief sententious precepts, while they treat

Of fate, and chance, and change in human life,

High actions and high passions best describing.

Thence to the famous Orators repair,

Those ancient whose resistless eloquence

Wielded at will that fierce democraty,

Shook the Arsenal, and fulmined over Greece

To Macedon and Artaxerxes' throne.

To sage Philosophy next lend thine ear,

From heaven descended to the low-roofed house

Of Socrates—see there his tenement—

Whom, well inspired, the Oracle pronounced

Wisest of men; from whose mouth issued forth

Mellifluous streams, that watered all the schools

Of Academics old and new, with those

Surnamed Peripatetics, and the sect

Epicurean, and the Stoic severe.

These here revolve, or, as thou likest, at home,

Till time mature thee to a kingdom's weight;

These rules will render thee a king complete

Within thyself, much more with empire joined."

To whom our Saviour sagely thus replied:—

"Think not but that I know these things; or, think

I know them not, not therefore am I short

Of knowing what I ought. He who receives

Light from above, from the Fountain of Light,

No other doctrine needs, though granted true;

But these are false, or little else but dreams,

Conjectures, fancies, built on nothing firm.

The first and wisest of them all professed

To know this only, that he nothing knew;

The next to fabling fell and smooth conceits;

A third sort doubted all things, though plain sense;

Others in virtue placed felicity,

But virtue joined with riches and long life;

In corporal pleasure he, and careless ease;

The Stoic last in philosophic pride,

By him called virtue, and his virtuous man,

Wise, perfect in himself, and all possessing,

Equal to God, oft shames not to prefer,

As fearing God nor man, contemning all

Wealth, pleasure, pain or torment, death and life—

Which, when he lists, he leaves, or boasts he can;

For all his tedious talk is but vain boast,

Or subtle shifts conviction to evade.

Alas! what can they teach, and not mislead,

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 Soul they talk, but all awry;

And in themselves seek virtue; and to themselves

All glory arrogate, to God give none;

Rather accuse him under usual names,

Fortune and Fate, as one regardless quite

Of mortal things. Who, therefore, seeks in these

True wisdom finds her not, or, by delusion

Far worse, her false resemblance only meets,

An empty cloud. However, many books,

Wise men have said, are wearisome; who reads

Incessantly, and to his reading brings not

A spirit and judgment equal or superior,

(And what he brings what needs he elsewhere seek?)

Uncertain and unsettled still remains,

Deep-versed in books and shallow in himself,

Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys

And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge,

As children gathering pebbles on the shore.

Or, if I would delight my private hours

With music or with poem, where so soon

As in our native language can I find

That solace? All our Law and Story strewed

With hymns, our Psalms with artful terms inscribed,

Our Hebrew songs and harps, in Babylon

That pleased so well our victor's ear, declare

That rather Greece from us these arts derived—

Ill imitated while they loudest sing

The vices of their deities, and their own,

In fable, hymn, or song, so personating

Their gods ridiculous, and themselves past shame.

Remove their swelling epithetes, thick-laid

As varnish on a harlot's cheek, the rest,

Thin-sown with aught of profit or delight,

Will far be found unworthy to compare

With Sion's songs, to all true tastes excelling,

Where God is praised aright and godlike men,

The Holiest of Holies and his Saints

(Such are from God inspired, not such from thee);

Unless where moral virtue is expressed

By light of Nature, not in all quite lost.

Their orators thou then extoll'st as those

The top of eloquence—statists indeed,

And lovers of their country, as may seem;

But herein to our Prophets far beneath,

As men divinely taught, and better teaching

The solid rules of civil government,

In their majestic, unaffected style,

Than all the oratory of Greece and Rome.

In them is plainest taught, and easiest learnt,

What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so,

What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat;

These only, with our Law, best form a king."

So spake the Son of God; but Satan, now

Quite at a loss (for all his darts were spent),

Thus to our Saviour, with stern brow, replied:—

"Since neither wealth nor honour, arms nor arts,

Kingdom nor empire, pleases thee, nor aught

By me proposed in life contemplative

Or active, tended on by glory or fame,

What dost thou in this world? The Wilderness

For thee is fittest place: I found thee there,

And thither will return thee. Yet remember

What I foretell thee; soon thou shalt have cause

To wish thou never hadst rejected, thus

Nicely or cautiously, my offered aid,

Which would have set thee in short time with ease

On David's throne, or throne of all the world,

Now at full age, fulness of time, thy season,

When prophecies of thee are best fulfilled.

Now, contrary—if I read aught in heaven,