No More Learning

But this "grandeur and majestic show of luxury" has no effect on
Christ, who says:

"Know, 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. "

The offer of the kingdoms of the world incurs the stern rebuke:

"Get thee behind me! Plain thou now appear'st
That Evil One, Satan, for ever damned. "

Still the Fiend is not utterly abashed, but, arguing that "the
childhood shows the man as morning shows the day," and that Christ's
empire is one of mind, he, as a last temptation from the "specular
mount," shows Athens.

"There thou shalt hear and learn the secret power
Of harmony, in tones and numbers hit
By voice or hand, and various-measured verse.
To sage philosophy next lend thine ear,
From Heaven descended to the low-roofed house
Of Socrates. "

Christ replies that whoever seeks true wisdom in the philosophies,
moralities and conjectures of men finds her not, and that the poetry
of Greece will not compare with "Hebrew songs and harps. " It is the
prophets who teach most plainly

"What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so;
What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat? "

Finding all these temptations futile, Satan explodes:

"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. "

So he transports the passive Saviour back to his homeless solitude.

Our Saviour, meek, and with untroubled mind,
Hungry and cold betook himself to rest.
The Tempter watched, and soon with ugly dreams
Disturbed his sleep. And either tropic now
'Gan thunder, and both ends of Heaven; the clouds
From many a rift abortive poured
Fierce rain with lightning mixed; water with fire
In ruin reconciled.
Ill wast Thou shrouded then,
O patient Son of God! Yet only stood'st
Unshaken! Nor yet staid the terror there.
Infernal ghosts of hellish furies round
Environed thee; some howled, some yelled, some shrieked,
Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou
Sat'st unappalled in calm and sinless peace.
Thus passed the night so foul, till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps, in amice grey,
Who with her radiant finger stilled the roar
Of thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds,
And grisly spectres, which the Fiend had raised
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.
And now the sun with more effectual beams
Had cheered the face of earth, and dried the wet
From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds,
Who all things now beheld more fresh and green,
After a night of storm so ruinous,
Cleared up their choicest notes in bush and spray,
To 'gratulate the sweet return of morn.

Satan, in anger, begins the last temptation.

Feigning to doubt whether the Saviour is the Son of God, he snatches
him up and carries him to where, in

Fair Jerusalem, the Holy City lifted high her towers
And higher yet the glorious Temple reared
Her pile; far off appearing like a mount
Of alabaster, topp'd with golden spires:
There on the highest pinnacle he set
The Son of God, and added thus in scorn:
"There stand if thou wilt stand; to stand upright will task thy skill. "
"Tempt not the Lord thy God," He said, and stood.
But Satan, smitten with amazement, fell,
And to his crew, that sat consulting, brought
Ruin, and desperation, and dismay.
So Satan fell; and straight a fiery globe,
Of angels, on full sail of wing flew nigh,
Who on their plumy vans received Him soft,
From His uneasy station, and upbore
As on a floating couch through the blithe air;
Then in a flowery valley set Him down
On a green bank, and set before Him, spread,
A table of celestial food. . . .
. .