PART II.

CHRIST'S VICTORY ON EARTH.

THE ARGUMENT.

Christ brought into the place of combat, the wilderness, among the wild beasts, Mark i. 13.-Described by his proper attribute, the Mercy of God-whom the creatures cannot but adore-by his unity with the Godhead-The beauty of his body, Cant. v. 11; Psal. xlv. 2; Gen. xlix. 12; Cant. v. 10; and Isa. liii. 2.-By preparing himself to the combat with his adversary, that seemed what he was not-some devout Essene-closely tempting him to despair of God's providence, and provide for himself-But was what he seemeth not, Satan, and would fain have led him, 1st. to Desperation; charactered by his place, countenance, apparel, horrible apparitions, &c.-2d. To Presumption; charactered by her place, attendants, &c.-and by her temptation, to Vain-glory; poetically described from the place where her court stood, a garden ;--from her court and courtiers ;-pleasure in drinking; in luxury; avarice; ambitious honour; from her throne, and from her temptation.-The effect of this victory in Satan; the angels; the creatures.

THERE, all alone, she spied, alas the while!
In shady darkness, a poor desolate,

That now had measur'd many a weary mile,
Through a waste desert, whither heav'nly fate
And his own will him brought; he praying sate,
And him to prey, as he to pray began,

The citizens of the wild forest ran,

And all with open throat would swallow whole the

man.

Soon did the lady to her graces cry,

And on their wings herself did nimbly strow,

I

After her coach a thousand loves did fly,
So down into the wilderness they throw;
Where she, and all her train that with her flow
Thorough the airy wave, with sails so gay,
Sinking into his breast that weary lay,

Made shipwreck of themselves, and vanish'd quite

away.

Seemed that man had them devoured all,
Whom to devour the beasts had made pretence;
But him their savage thirst did naught appal,
Though weapons none he had for his defence:
What arms for Innocence, but innocence ?

For when they saw their Lord's bright cogni

zance

Shine in his face, soon did they disadvance, And some unto him kneel, and some about him dance.

Down fell the lordly lion's angry mood,
And he himself fell down in congees low,
Bidding him welcome to his wasteful wood;
Sometime he kiss'd the grass where he did go,
And, as to wash his feet he well did know,

With fawning tongue he lick'd away the dust; And ev'ry one would nearest to him thrust, And ev'ry one, with new, forgot his former lust.

Unmindful of himself, to mind his Lord,
The lamb stood gazing by the tiger's side,
As though between them they had made ac-
cord,-

And on the lion's back the goat did ride,
Forgetful of the roughness of the hide:

If he stood still, their eyes upon him baited, If walk'd, they all in order on him waited, And when he slept, they as his watch themselves conceited.

Wonder doth call me up to see—(0 no,
I cannot see, and therefore sink in wonder)
The man, that shines as bright as God,—not so,
For God he is himself, that close lies under
That man, so close, that no time can dissunder
That band; yet not so close, but from him break
Such beams, as mortal eyes are all too weak
Such sight to see,—or it, if they should see, to
speak.

Upon a grassy hillock he was laid,
With woody primroses befreckled,
Over his head the wanton shadows play'd
Of a wild olive, that her boughs so spread,

As with her leaves she seemed to crown his head,
And her green arms to embrace the Prince of
Peace;

The Sun so near, needs must the winter ceaseThe Sun so near, another spring seem'd to in

crease.

His hair was black, and in small curls did twine,
As though it were the shadow of some light;
And, underneath, his face, as day, did shine-
But sure the day shined not half so bright,
Nor the sun's shadow made so dark a night.
Under his lovely locks, her head to shroud,
Did meek Humility herself grow proud :-
Hither, to light their lamps, did all the graces
crowd.

One of ten thousand souls I am, and more,

That of his eyes, and their sweet wounds, complain :

Sweet are the wounds of love-never so sore-
Ah! might he often slay me so again!

He never lives that thus is never slain.

What boots it watch? those eyes, for all my art, Mine own eyes looking on, have stole my heart:

In them Love bends his bow, and dips his burning

dart.

As when the sun, caught in an adverse cloud,
Flies 'cross the world, and there anew begets
The wat'ry picture of his beauty proud,
Throws all abroad his sparkling spangelets,
And the whole world in dire amazement sets,
To see two days abroad at once, and all
Doubt whether now he rise, or now he fall:
So flam'd the godly flesh, proud of his heav'nly
thrall.

His cheeks as snowy apples sopp'd in wine,
Had their red roses quench'd with lilies white,
And like to garden strawberries did shine,
Wash'd in a bowl of milk, or rose-buds bright
Unbosoming their breasts against the light:

Here love-sick souls did eat, there drank, and made

Sweet-smelling posies, that could never fade,But worldly eyes him thought more like some living shade.

For laughter never look'd upon his brow,
Though in his face all smiling joys did bide;