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XVI.

Then thus in homely guise I featly framed
My lowly speech:-"Good sir, what leads this way
Your wandering steps? Must hapless chance be
blamed

That you so far from haunt of mortals stray? Here have I dwelt for many a lingering day, Nor trace of man have seen; but how! methought

Thou wert the youth on whom God's holy ray I saw descend in Jordan, when John taught That he to fallen man the saving promise brought." XVII.

"I am that man," said Jesus, "I am He! But truce to questions-Canst thou point my feet To some low hut, if haply such there be

In this wild labyrinth, where I may meet With homely greeting, and may sit and eat; For forty days I have tarried fasting here,

Hid in the dark glens of this lone retreat, And now I hunger; and my fainting ear Longs much to greet the sound of fountains gushing

near."

XVIII.

Then thus I answer'd wily:-" If, indeed,

Son of our God thou be'st, what need to seek For food from men?-Lo! on these flint stones feed, Bid them be bread! Open thy lips and speak, And living rills from yon parch'd rock will break." Instant as I had spoke, his piercing eye

Fix'd on my face;—the blood forsook my cheek,
I could not bear his gaze! my mask slipp'd by;
I would have shunn'd his look, but had not power to fly.
XIX.

Then he rebuked me with the holy word-
Accursed sounds! but now my native pride
Return'd, and by no foolish qualm deterr'd,
I bore him from the mountain's woody side,
Up to the summit, where, extending wide
Kingdoms and cities, palaces and fanes,

Bright sparkling in the sunbeams, were descried;
And in gay dance, amid luxuriant plains,
Tripp'd to the jocund reed the emasculated swains.

XX.

"Behold," I cried, "these glories! scenes divine!
Thou whose sad prime in pining want decays;
And these, O rapture! these shall all be thine,
If thou wilt give to me, not God, the praise.
Hath he not given to indigence thy days?
Is not thy portion peril here and pain?

Oh! leave his temples, shun his wounding ways:
Seize the tiara! these mean weeds disdain,
Kneel, kneel, thou man of woe, and peace and
splendor gain."

XXI.

"Is it not written," sternly he replied,

"Tempt not the Lord thy God?" Frowning he spake,

And instant sounds, as of the ocean tide,

Rose, and the whirlwind from its prison brake, And caught me up aloft, till in one flake, The sidelong volley met my swift career,

And smote me earthward.-Jove himself might quake

At such a fall: my sinews crack'd, and near Obscure and dizzy sounds seem'd ringing in mine ear.

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XXVIII.

which lost us Heaven, that we are inferior to the "This comes," at length burst from the furious chief, Thunder-bearer: In subtlety-in subtlety alone we "This comes of distant counsels! Here behold are his equals. Open war is impossible. The fruits of wily cunning! the relief Which coward policy would fain unfold,

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Thus we shall pierce our conqueror, through the

race

Which as himself he loves; thus if we fall,
We fall not with the anguish, the disgrace

Of falling unrevenged. The stirring call
Of vengeance rings within me! Warriors all,
The word is vengeance, and the spur despair.
Away the coward wiles!-Death's coal-black
pall

Be now our standard!-Be our torch the glare
Of cities fired! our fifes, the shrieks that fill the air!
Him answering rose Mecasphim, who of old,
Far in the silence of Chaldea's groves,
Was worshipp'd, God of Fire, with charms untold
And mystery. His wandering spirit roves,
Now vainly searching for the flame it loves,
And sits and mourns like some white-robed sire
Where stood his temple, and where fragrant

cloves

And cinnamon upheap'd the sacred pyre, And nightly magi watch'd the everlasting fire.

Or,

He waved his robe of flame, he cross'd his breast,
And sighing-his papyrus scarf survey'd,
Woven with dark characters; then thus address'd
The troubled council:

I.

Thus far have I pursued my solemn theme
With self-rewarding toil, thus far have sung
Of godlike deeds, far loftier than beseem
The lyre which I in early days have strung;
And now my spirits faint, and I have hung
The shell, that solaced me in saddest hour,

On the dark cypress! and the strings which rung With Jesus' praise, their harpings now are o'er, when the breeze comes by, moan, and are heard

no more.

Ye powers of Hell, I am no coward. I proved this of old. Who led your forces against the armies of Jehovah? Who coped with Ithuriel and the thunders of the Almighty? Who, when stunned and confused ye lay on the burning lake, who first awoke and collected your scattered powers? Lastly, who led you across the unfathomable abyss to this delightful world, and established that reign here which now totters to its base? How, therefore, dares yon treacherous fiend to cast a stain on Satan's bravery? he who preys only on the defenceless-who sucks the blood of infants, and delights only in acts of ignoble cruelty and unequal contention. Away with the boaster who never joins in action, but, like a cormorant, hovers over the field to feed upon the wounded, and overwhelm the dying. True bravery is as remote from rashness as from hesitation; let us counsel coolly, Ere I with Death shake hands, and smile that I am free.

but let us execute our counselled purposes determinately. In power we have learnt, by that experiment

And must the harp of Judah sleep again?
Shall I no more reanimate the lay?

Oh! thou who visitest the sons of men,
Thou who dost listen when the humble pray,
One little space prolong my mournful day!

One little lapse suspend thy last decree!
I am a youthful traveller in the way,
And this slight boon would consecrate to thee,

THE END.

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