Of what I suffer here. If nature need not,Or God support nature without repast,Though needing, what praise is it to endure?But now I feel I hunger; which declaresNature hath need of what she asks. Yet GodCan satisfy that need some other way,Though hunger still remain. So it remainWithout this body's wasting, I content me,And from the sting of famine fear no harm;Nor mind it, fed with better thoughts, that feedMe hungering more to do my Father's will."It was the hour of night, when thus the SonCommuned in silent walk, then laid him downUnder the hospitable covert nighOf trees thick interwoven. There he slept,And dreamed, as appetite is wont to dream,Of meats and drinks, nature's refreshment sweet.Him thought he by the brook of Cherith stood,And saw the ravens with their horny beaksFood to Elijah bringing even and morn—Though ravenous, taught to abstain from what they brought;He saw the Prophet also, how he fledInto the desert, and how there he sleptUnder a juniper—then how, awaked,He found his supper on the coals prepared,And by the Angel was bid rise and eat,And eat the second time after repose,The strength whereof sufficed him forty days:Sometimes that with Elijah he partook,Or as a guest with Daniel at his pulse.Thus wore out night; and now the harald LarkLeft his ground–nest, high towering to descryThe Morn's approach, and greet her with his song.As lightly from his grassy couch up roseOur Saviour, and found all was but a dream;Fasting he went to sleep, and fasting waked.Up to a hill anon his steps he reared,From whose high top to ken the prospect round,If cottage were in view, sheep–cote, or herd;But cottage, herd, or sheep–cote, none he saw—Only in a bottom saw a pleasant grove,With chaunt of tuneful birds resounding loud.Thither he bent his way, determined thereTo rest at noon, and entered soon the shadeHigh–roofed, and walks beneath, and alleys brown,That opened in the midst a woody scene;Nature's own work it seemed (Nature taught Art),And, to a superstitious eye, the hauntOf wood–gods and wood–nymphs. He viewed it round;When suddenly a man before him stood,Not rustic as before, but seemlier clad,As one in city or court or palace bred,And with fair speech these words to him addressed:—"With granted leave officious I return,But much more wonder that the Son of GodIn this wild solitude so long should bide,Of all things destitute, and, well I know,Not without hunger. Others of some note,As story tells, have trod this wilderness:The fugitive Bond–woman, with her son,Outcast Nebaioth, yet found here reliefBy a providing Angel; all the raceOf Israel here had famished, had not GodRained from heaven manna; and that Prophet bold,Native of Thebez, wandering here, was fedTwice by a voice inviting him to eat.Of thee those forty days none hath regard,Forty and more deserted here indeed."To whom thus Jesus:—"What conclud'st thou hence?They all had need; I, as thou seest, have none.""How hast thou hunger then?" Satan replied."Tell me, if food were now before thee set,Wouldst thou not eat?""Thereafter as I like the giver," answered Jesus."Why should that cause thy refusal?" said the subtle Fiend."Hast thou not right to all created things?Owe not all creatures, by just right, to theeDuty and service, nor to stay till bid,But tender all their power? Nor mention IMeats by the law unclean, or offered firstTo idols—those young Daniel could refuse;Nor proffered by an enemy—though whoWould scruple that, with want oppressed? Behold,Nature ashamed, or, better to express,Troubled, that thou shouldst hunger, hath purveyedFrom all the elements her choicest store,To treat thee as beseems, and as her LordWith honour. Only deign to sit and eat."He spake no dream; for, as his words had end,Our Saviour, lifting up his eyes, beheld,In ample space under the broadest shade,A table richly spread in regal mode,With dishes piled and meats of noblest sortAnd savour—beasts of chase, or fowl of game,In pastry built, or from the spit, or boiled,Grisamber–steamed; all fish, from sea or shore,Freshet or purling brook, of shell or fin,And exquisitest name, for which was drainedPontus, and Lucrine bay, and Afric coast.Alas! how simple, to these cates compared,Was that crude Apple that diverted Eve!And at a stately sideboard, by the wine,That fragrant smell diffused, in order stoodTall stripling youths rich–clad, of fairer hueThan Ganymed or Hylas; distant more,Under the trees now tripped, now solemn stood,Nymphs of Diana's train, and NaiadesWith fruits and flowers from Amalthea's horn,And ladies of the Hesperides, that seemedFairer than feigned of old, or fabled sinceOf faery damsels met in forest wideBy knights of Logres, or of Lyones,Lancelot, or Pelleas, or Pellenore.And all the while harmonious airs were heardOf chiming strings or charming pipes; and windsOf gentlest gale Arabian odours fannedFrom their soft wings, and Flora's earliest smells.Such was the splendour; and the Tempter nowHis invitation earnestly renewed:—"What doubts the Son of God to sit and eat?These are not fruits forbidden; no interdictDefends the touching of these viands pure;Their taste no knowledge works, at least of evil,But life preserves, destroys life's enemy,Hunger, with sweet restorative delight.All these are Spirits of air, and woods, and springs,Thy gentle ministers, who come to payThee homage, and acknowledge thee their Lord.What doubt'st thou, Son of God? Sit down and eat."To whom thus Jesus temperately replied:—"Said'st thou not that to all things I had right?And who withholds my power that right to use?Shall I receive by gift what of my own,When and where likes me best, I can command?I can at will, doubt not, as soon as thou,Command a table in this wilderness,And call swift flights of Angels ministrant,Arrayed in glory, on my cup to attend:Why shouldst thou, then, obtrude this diligenceIn vain, where no acceptance it can find?And with my hunger what hast thou to do?Thy pompous delicacies I contemn,And count thy specious gifts no gifts, but guiles."To whom thus answered Satan, male–content:—"That I have also power to give thou seest;If of that power I bring thee voluntaryWhat I might have bestowed on whom I pleased,And rather opportunely in this placeChose to impart to thy apparent need,Why shouldst thou not accept it? But I seeWhat I can do or offer is suspect.Of these things others quickly will dispose,Whose pains have earned the far–fet spoil." With thatBoth table and provision vanished quite,With sound of harpies' wings and talons heard;Only the importune Tempter still remained,And with these words his temptation pursued:—"By hunger, that each other creature tames,Thou art not to be harmed, therefore not moved;Thy temperance, invincible besides,For no allurement yields to appetite;And all thy heart is set on high designs,High actions. But wherewith to be achieved?Great acts require great means of enterprise;Thou art unknown, unfriended, low of birth,A carpenter thy father known, thyselfBred up in poverty and straits at home,Lost in a desert here and hunger–bit.Which way, or from what hope, dost thou aspireTo greatness? whence authority deriv'st?What followers, what retinue canst thou gain,Or at thy heels the dizzy multitude,Longer than thou canst feed them on thy cost?Money brings honour, friends, conquest, and realms.What raised Antipater the Edomite,And his son Herod placed on Juda's throne,Thy throne, but gold, that got him puissant friends?Therefore, if at great things thou wouldst arrive,Get riches first, get wealth, and treasure heap—Not difficult, if thou hearken to me.Riches are mine, fortune is in my hand;They whom I favour thrive in wealth amain,While virtue, valour, wisdom, sit in want."To whom thus Jesus patiently replied:—"Yet wealth without these three is impotentTo gain dominion, or to keep it gained—Witness those ancient empires of the earth,In highth of all their flowing wealth dissolved;But men endued with these have oft attained,In lowest poverty, to highest deeds—Gideon, and Jephtha, and the shepherd ladWhose offspring on the throne of Juda sateSo many ages, and shall yet regainThat seat, and reign in Israel without end.Among the Heathen (for throughout the worldTo me is not unknown what hath been doneWorthy of memorial) canst thou not rememberQuintius, Fabricius, Curius, Regulus?For I esteem those names of men so poor,Who could do mighty things, and could contemnRiches, though offered from the hand of kings.And what in me seems wanting but that IMay also in this poverty as soonAccomplish what they did, perhaps and more?Extol not riches, then, the toil of fools,The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare; more aptTo slacken virtue and abate her edgeThan prompt her to do aught may merit praise.What if with like aversion I rejectRiches and realms! Yet not for that a crown,Golden in shew, is but a wreath of thorns,Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights,To him who wears the regal diadem,When on his shoulders each man's burden lies;For therein stands the office of a king,His honour, virtue, merit, and chief praise,That for the public all this weight he bears.Yet he who reigns within himself, and rulesPassions, desires, and fears, is more a king—Which every wise and virtuous man attains;And who attains not, ill aspires to ruleCities of men, or headstrong multitudes,Subject himself to anarchy within,Or lawless passions in him, which he serves.But to guide nations in the way of truthBy saving doctrine, and from error leadTo know, and, knowing, worship God aright,Is yet more kingly. This attracts the soul,Governs the inner man, the nobler part;That other o'er the body only reigns,And oft by force—which to a generous mindSo reigning can be no sincere delight.Besides, to give a kingdom hath been thoughtGreater and nobler done, and to lay downFar more magnanimous, than to assume.Riches are needless, then, both for themselves,And for thy reason why they should be sought—To gain a sceptre, oftest better missed."