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The Pontic King, and in triumph had rode.
Yet

years, and to ripe years judgment mature, Quench not the thirst of glory, but augment. Great Julius, whom now all the world admires; The more he grew in years, the more inflam'd With glory, wept that he had liv'd so long Inglorious: But thou yet art not too late.

To whom our Saviour calmly thus reply'd.
Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth
For Empire's sake, nor Empire to affect
For glory's fake by all thy argument.
For what is glory but the blaze of fame,
The peoples praise, if always praise unmixt?
And what the people but a herd confus'd,
A miscellaneous rabble, who extol

[praises Things vulgar, and well weigh’d, scarce worth the They praise and they admire they know not what; And know not whom, but as one leads the other ; And what delight to be by such extollid,

their

tongues and be their talk, Of whom to be despis'd were no small praise? His lot who dares be singularly good. Th'intelligent among them and the wise

Arc

To live upon

Are few, and glory scarce of few is rais’d.
This is true glory and renown; when God
Looking on th’ Earth, with approbation marks
The just man, and divulges him through Heav'n
To all his Angels; who with true applause
Recount his praises ; thus he did to Job;
When to extend his fame, through Heav'n and Earth,
As thou tơ thy reproach may'st well remember,
He ask'd thee, halt thou seen my servant Job?
Famous he was in Heav'n, on Earth less known;
Where glory is false glory, attributed
To things not glorious, men not worthy of fame.
They err who count it glorious to subdue
By Conquest far and wide, to over-run
Large Countries, and in field great Battels win,
Great Cities by assault: what do thefe Worthies;
But rob and spoil, burn, flaughter, and enslave
Peaceable Nations; neighbouring, or remote,
Made Captive, yet deserving freedom more
Than those their Conquerors, who leave behind
Nothing but ruin wherefoe'er they rove,
And all the flourishing works of peace destroy,
Then swell with pride, and must be titled Gods,

E

Great

Great Benefactors of mankind, Deliverers,
Worship’d with Temple, Priest and Sacrifice;

ide
One is the Son of Jove, of Mars the other,
Till Conqu’ror Death discover them scarce men, tic
Rolling in brutish vices, and deforin'd,
Violent or shameful death their due reward.
But if there be in glory aught of good,
It may by means far different be attain'd
Without ambition, war, or violence;
By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent,
By patience, temperance; I mention still
Him whom thy wrongs with Saintly patience born,
Made famous in a Land and times obscure;
Who names not now with honour patient Job?
Poor Socrates (who next more memorable?)
By what he taught and suffer'd for so doing,
For truth's fake fuffering death unjust, lives now
Equal in fame to proudest Conquerors.
Yet if for fame and glory aught be done,
Aught fuffer'd; if young African for fame is.'
His wasted Country freed from Punic rage,

The deed becomes unprais'd, the man at leafts
And loses, though but verbal, his reward. I had

Shall

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Shall I seek glory then, as vain Men seek
Oft not desery'd? I seck not mine, but his
Who sent me, and thereby witness whence I am.

To whom the Tempter murm'ring thus reply'd.
Think not so flight of glory; therein least
Resembling thy great Father : he seeks glory,
And for his glory all things made, all things
Orders and Governs, not content in Heav'n
By all his Angels glorify'd, requires
Glory from men, from all men good or bad,
Wise or unwise, no difference, no exemption;
Above all Sacrifice, or hallow'd gift
Glory he requires, and glory he receives
Promiscuous from all Nations, Jew, or Greek,
Or Barbarous, 'nor exception hath declar'd;
From us his foes pronounc'd glory he exacts.

To whom our Saviour fervently reply'd. And reason; since his word all things produc'di Though chii fly not for glory as prime end, i... But to sew forth his goodness and impart His good communicable rev'ry soul; Freely; of whom what could he less expect Than glory and benediction, that is thanks,

The

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The Nightest, easiest, readiest recompence
From them who could return him nothing else,
And not returning what would likeliest render
Contempt instead, dishonour obloquy?
Hard recompence, unfutable return
For so much good, so much beneficence.
But why should man seek glory? who of his own
Hath nothing, and to whom nothing belongs
But condemnation, ignominy, and shame?
Who for fo

many

benefits receiy'd
Turn'd recreant to God, ingrate and false,
And so of all true good himself despoil'd,
Yet, facrilegious, to himself would take
That which to God alone of right belongs ;
Yet so much bounty is in God, such grace,
That who advance his glory, not their own,
Them he himself to glory will advance.

So spake the Son of God; and here again
Satan had not to answer, but stood struck
With guilt of his own sin, for he himself
Insatiable of glory had lost all,
Yet of another Plea bethought him soon.

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