Paradise Regain'd : Book II.
Meanwhile
the
new-baptized,
who
yet
remained
At
Jordan
with
the
Baptist,
and
had
seen
Him
whom
they
heard
so
late
expressly
called
Jesus
Messiah,
Son
of
God,
declared,
And
on
that
high
authority
had
believed,
And
with
him
talked,
and
with
him
lodged—I
mean
Andrew
and
Simon,
famous
after
known,
With
others,
though
in
Holy
Writ
not
named—
Now
missing
him,
their
joy
so
lately
found,
So
lately
found
and
so
abruptly
gone,
Began
to
doubt,
and
doubted
many
days,
And,
as
the
days
increased,
increased
their
doubt.
Sometimes
they
thought
he
might
be
only
shewn,
And
for
a
time
caught
up
to
God,
as
once
Moses
was
in
the
Mount
and
missing
long,
And
the
great
Thisbite,
who
on
fiery
wheels
Rode
up
to
Heaven,
yet
once
again
to
come.
Therefore,
as
those
young
prophets
then
with
care
Sought
lost
Eliah,
so
in
each
place
these
Nigh
to
Bethabara—in
Jericho
The
city
of
palms,
AEnon,
and
Salem
old,
Machaerus,
and
each
town
or
city
walled
On
this
side
the
broad
lake
Genezaret,
Or
in
Peraea—but
returned
in
vain.
Then
on
the
bank
of
Jordan,
by
a
creek,
Where
winds
with
reeds
and
osiers
whispering
play,
Plain
fishermen
(no
greater
men
them
call),
Close
in
a
cottage
low
together
got,
Their
unexpected
loss
and
plaints
outbreathed:—
"Alas,
from
what
high
hope
to
what
relapse
Unlooked
for
are
we
fallen!
Our
eyes
beheld
Messiah
certainly
now
come,
so
long
Expected
of
our
fathers;
we
have
heard
His
words,
his
wisdom
full
of
grace
and
truth.
'Now,
now,
for
sure,
deliverance
is
at
hand;
The
kingdom
shall
to
Israel
be
restored:'
Thus
we
rejoiced,
but
soon
our
joy
is
turned
Into
perplexity
and
new
amaze.
For
whither
is
he
gone?
what
accident
Hath
rapt
him
from
us?
will
he
now
retire
After
appearance,
and
again
prolong
Our
expectation?
God
of
Israel,
Send
thy
Messiah
forth;
the
time
is
come.
Behold
the
kings
of
the
earth,
how
they
oppress
Thy
Chosen,
to
what
highth
their
power
unjust
They
have
exalted,
and
behind
them
cast
All
fear
of
Thee;
arise,
and
vindicate
Thy
glory;
free
thy
people
from
their
yoke!
But
let
us
wait;
thus
far
He
hath
performed—
Sent
his
Anointed,
and
to
us
revealed
him
By
his
great
Prophet
pointed
at
and
shown
In
public,
and
with
him
we
have
conversed.
Let
us
be
glad
of
this,
and
all
our
fears
Lay
on
his
providence;
He
will
not
fail,
Nor
will
withdraw
him
now,
nor
will
recall—
Mock
us
with
his
blest
sight,
then
snatch
him
hence:
Soon
we
shall
see
our
hope,
our
joy,
return."
Thus
they
out
of
their
plaints
new
hope
resume
To
find
whom
at
the
first
they
found
unsought.
But
to
his
mother
Mary,
when
she
saw
Others
returned
from
baptism,
not
her
Son,
Nor
left
at
Jordan
tidings
of
him
none,
Within
her
breast
though
calm,
her
breast
though
pure,
Motherly
cares
and
fears
got
head,
and
raised
Some
troubled
thoughts,
which
she
in
sighs
thus
clad:—
"Oh,
what
avails
me
now
that
honour
high,
To
have
conceived
of
God,
or
that
salute,
'Hail,
highly
favoured,
among
women
blest!'
While
I
to
sorrows
am
no
less
advanced,
And
fears
as
eminent
above
the
lot
Of
other
women,
by
the
birth
I
bore:
In
such
a
season
born,
when
scarce
a
shed
Could
be
obtained
to
shelter
him
or
me
From
the
bleak
air?
A
stable
was
our
warmth,
A
manger
his;
yet
soon
enforced
to
fly
Thence
into
Egypt,
till
the
murderous
king
Were
dead,
who
sought
his
life,
and,
missing,
filled
With
infant
blood
the
streets
of
Bethlehem.
From
Egypt
home
returned,
in
Nazareth
Hath
been
our
dwelling
many
years;
his
life
Private,
unactive,
calm,
contemplative,
Little
suspicious
to
any
king.
But
now,
Full
grown
to
man,
acknowledged,
as
I
hear,
By
John
the
Baptist,
and
in
public
shewn,
Son
owned
from
Heaven
by
his
Father's
voice,
I
looked
for
some
great
change.
To
honour?
no;
But
trouble,
as
old
Simeon
plain
foretold,
That
to
the
fall
and
rising
he
should
be
Of
many
in
Israel,
and
to
a
sign
Spoken
against—that
through
my
very
soul
A
sword
shall
pierce.
This
is
my
favoured
lot,
My
exaltation
to
afflictions
high!
Afflicted
I
may
be,
it
seems,
and
blest!
I
will
not
argue
that,
nor
will
repine.
But
where
delays
he
now?
Some
great
intent
Conceals
him.
When
twelve
years
he
scarce
had
seen,
I
lost
him,
but
so
found
as
well
I
saw
He
could
not
lose
himself,
but
went
about
His
Father's
business.
What
he
meant
I
mused—
Since
understand;
much
more
his
absence
now
Thus
long
to
some
great
purpose
he
obscures.
But
I
to
wait
with
patience
am
inured;
My
heart
hath
been
a
storehouse
long
of
things
And
sayings
laid
up,
pretending
strange
events."
Thus
Mary,
pondering
oft,
and
oft
to
mind
Recalling
what
remarkably
had
passed
Since
first
her
Salutation
heard,
with
thoughts
Meekly
composed
awaited
the
fulfilling:
The
while
her
Son,
tracing
the
desert
wild,
Sole,
but
with
holiest
meditations
fed,
Into
himself
descended,
and
at
once
All
his
great
work
to
come
before
him
set—
How
to
begin,
how
to
accomplish
best
His
end
of
being
on
Earth,
and
mission
high.
For
Satan,
with
sly
preface
to
return,
Had
left
him
vacant,
and
with
speed
was
gone
Up
to
the
middle
region
of
thick
air,
Where
all
his
Potentates
in
council
sate.
There,
without
sign
of
boast,
or
sign
of
joy,
Solicitous
and
blank,
he
thus
began:—
"Princes,
Heaven's
ancient
Sons,
AEthereal
Thrones—
Daemonian
Spirits
now,
from
the
element
Each
of
his
reign
allotted,
rightlier
called
Powers
of
Fire,
Air,
Water,
and
Earth
beneath
(So
may
we
hold
our
place
and
these
mild
seats
Without
new
trouble!)—such
an
enemy
Is
risen
to
invade
us,
who
no
less
Threatens
than
our
expulsion
down
to
Hell.
I,
as
I
undertook,
and
with
the
vote
Consenting
in
full
frequence
was
impowered,
Have
found
him,
viewed
him,
tasted
him;
but
find
Far
other
labour
to
be
undergone
Than
when
I
dealt
with
Adam,
first
of
men,
Though
Adam
by
his
wife's
allurement
fell,
However
to
this
Man
inferior
far—
If
he
be
Man
by
mother's
side,
at
least
With
more
than
human
gifts
from
Heaven
adorned,
Perfections
absolute,
graces
divine,
And
amplitude
of
mind
to
greatest
deeds.
Therefore
I
am
returned,
lest
confidence
Of
my
success
with
Eve
in
Paradise
Deceive
ye
to
persuasion
over-sure
Of
like
succeeding
here.
I
summon
all
Rather
to
be
in
readiness
with
hand
Or
counsel
to
assist,
lest
I,
who
erst
Thought
none
my
equal,
now
be
overmatched."
So
spake
the
old
Serpent,
doubting,
and
from
all
With
clamour
was
assured
their
utmost
aid
At
his
command;
when
from
amidst
them
rose
Belial,
the
dissolutest
Spirit
that
fell,
The
sensualest,
and,
after
Asmodai,
The
fleshliest
Incubus,
and
thus
advised:—
"Set
women
in
his
eye
and
in
his
walk,
Among
daughters
of
men
the
fairest
found.
Many
are
in
each
region
passing
fair
As
the
noon
sky,
more
like
to
goddesses
Than
mortal
creatures,
graceful
and
discreet,
Expert
in
amorous
arts,
enchanting
tongues
Persuasive,
virgin
majesty
with
mild
And
sweet
allayed,
yet
terrible
to
approach,
Skilled
to
retire,
and
in
retiring
draw
Hearts
after
them
tangled
in
amorous
nets.
Such
object
hath
the
power
to
soften
and
tame
Severest
temper,
smooth
the
rugged'st
brow,
Enerve,
and
with
voluptuous
hope
dissolve,
Draw
out
with
credulous
desire,
and
lead
At
will
the
manliest,
resolutest
breast,
As
the
magnetic
hardest
iron
draws.
Women,
when
nothing
else,
beguiled
the
heart
Of
wisest
Solomon,
and
made
him
build,
And
made
him
bow,
to
the
gods
of
his
wives."
To
whom
quick
answer
Satan
thus
returned:—
"Belial,
in
much
uneven
scale
thou
weigh'st
All
others
by
thyself.
Because
of
old
Thou
thyself
doat'st
on
womankind,
admiring
Their
shape,
their
colour,
and
attractive
grace,
None
are,
thou
think'st,
but
taken
with
such
toys.
Before
the
Flood,
thou,
with
thy
lusty
crew,
False
titled
Sons
of
God,
roaming
the
Earth,
Cast
wanton
eyes
on
the
daughters
of
men,
And
coupled
with
them,
and
begot
a
race.
Have
we
not
seen,
or
by
relation
heard,
In
courts
and
regal
chambers
how
thou
lurk'st,
In
wood
or
grove,
by
mossy
fountain-side,
In
valley
or
green
meadow,
to
waylay
Some
beauty
rare,
Calisto,
Clymene,
Daphne,
or
Semele,
Antiopa,
Or
Amymone,
Syrinx,
many
more
Too
long—then
lay'st
thy
scapes
on
names
adored,
Apollo,
Neptune,
Jupiter,
or
Pan,
Satyr,
or
Faun,
or
Silvan?
But
these
haunts
Delight
not
all.
Among
the
sons
of
men
How
many
have
with
a
smile
made
small
account
Of
beauty
and
her
lures,
easily
scorned
All
her
assaults,
on
worthier
things
intent!
Remember
that
Pellean
conqueror,
A
youth,
how
all
the
beauties
of
the
East
He
slightly
viewed,
and
slightly
overpassed;
How
he
surnamed
of
Africa
dismissed,
In
his
prime
youth,
the
fair
Iberian
maid.
For
Solomon,
he
lived
at
ease,
and,
full
Of
honour,
wealth,
high
fare,
aimed
not
beyond
Higher
design
than
to
enjoy
his
state;
Thence
to
the
bait
of
women
lay
exposed.
But
he
whom
we
attempt
is
wiser
far
Than
Solomon,
of
more
exalted
mind,
Made
and
set
wholly
on
the
accomplishment
Of
greatest
things.
What
woman
will
you
find,
Though
of
this
age
the
wonder
and
the
fame,
On
whom
his
leisure
will
voutsafe
an
eye
Of
fond
desire?
Or
should
she,
confident,
As
sitting
queen
adored
on
Beauty's
throne,
Descend
with
all
her
winning
charms
begirt
To
enamour,
as
the
zone
of
Venus
once
Wrought
that
effect
on
Jove
(so
fables
tell),
How
would
one
look
from
his
majestic
brow,
Seated
as
on
the
top
of
Virtue's
hill,
Discountenance
her
despised,
and
put
to
rout
All
her
array,
her
female
pride
deject,
Or
turn
to
reverent
awe!
For
Beauty
stands
In
the
admiration
only
of
weak
minds
Led
captive;
cease
to
admire,
and
all
her
plumes
Fall
flat,
and
shrink
into
a
trivial
toy,
At
every
sudden
slighting
quite
abashed.
Therefore
with
manlier
objects
we
must
try
His
constancy—with
such
as
have
more
shew
Of
worth,
of
honour,
glory,
and
popular
praise
(Rocks
whereon
greatest
men
have
oftest
wrecked);
Or
that
which
only
seems
to
satisfy
Lawful
desires
of
nature,
not
beyond.
And
now
I
know
he
hungers,
where
no
food
Is
to
be
found,
in
the
wide
Wilderness:
The
rest
commit
to
me;
I
shall
let
pass
No
advantage,
and
his
strength
as
oft
assay."
He
ceased,
and
heard
their
grant
in
loud
acclaim;
Then
forthwith
to
him
takes
a
chosen
band
Of
Spirits
likest
to
himself
in
guile,
To
be
at
hand
and
at
his
beck
appear,
If
cause
were
to
unfold
some
active
scene
Of
various
persons,
each
to
know
his
part;
Then
to
the
desert
takes
with
these
his
flight,
Where
still,
from
shade
to
shade,
the
Son
of
God,
After
forty
days'
fasting,
had
remained,
Now
hungering
first,
and
to
himself
thus
said:—
"Where
will
this
end?
Four
times
ten
days
I
have
passed
Wandering
this
woody
maze,
and
human
food
Nor
tasted,
nor
had
appetite.
That
fast
To
virtue
I
impute
not,
or
count
part
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
declares
Nature
hath
need
of
what
she
asks.
Yet
God
Can
satisfy
that
need
some
other
way,
Though
hunger
still
remain.
So
it
remain
Without
this
body's
wasting,
I
content
me,
And
from
the
sting
of
famine
fear
no
harm;
Nor
mind
it,
fed
with
better
thoughts,
that
feed
Me
hungering
more
to
do
my
Father's
will."
It
was
the
hour
of
night,
when
thus
the
Son
Communed
in
silent
walk,
then
laid
him
down
Under
the
hospitable
covert
nigh
Of
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
beaks
Food
to
Elijah
bringing
even
and
morn—
Though
ravenous,
taught
to
abstain
from
what
they
brought;
He
saw
the
Prophet
also,
how
he
fled
Into
the
desert,
and
how
there
he
slept
Under
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
Lark
Left
his
ground-nest,
high
towering
to
descry
The
Morn's
approach,
and
greet
her
with
his
song.
As
lightly
from
his
grassy
couch
up
rose
Our
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
there
To
rest
at
noon,
and
entered
soon
the
shade
High-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
haunt
Of
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
God
In
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
relief
By
a
providing
Angel;
all
the
race
Of
Israel
here
had
famished,
had
not
God
Rained
from
heaven
manna;
and
that
Prophet
bold,
Native
of
Thebez,
wandering
here,
was
fed
Twice
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
thee
Duty
and
service,
nor
to
stay
till
bid,
But
tender
all
their
power?
Nor
mention
I
Meats
by
the
law
unclean,
or
offered
first
To
idols—those
young
Daniel
could
refuse;
Nor
proffered
by
an
enemy—though
who
Would
scruple
that,
with
want
oppressed?
Behold,
Nature
ashamed,
or,
better
to
express,
Troubled,
that
thou
shouldst
hunger,
hath
purveyed
From
all
the
elements
her
choicest
store,
To
treat
thee
as
beseems,
and
as
her
Lord
With
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
sort
And
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
drained
Pontus,
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
stood
Tall
stripling
youths
rich-clad,
of
fairer
hue
Than
Ganymed
or
Hylas;
distant
more,
Under
the
trees
now
tripped,
now
solemn
stood,
Nymphs
of
Diana's
train,
and
Naiades
With
fruits
and
flowers
from
Amalthea's
horn,
And
ladies
of
the
Hesperides,
that
seemed
Fairer
than
feigned
of
old,
or
fabled
since
Of
faery
damsels
met
in
forest
wide
By
knights
of
Logres,
or
of
Lyones,
Lancelot,
or
Pelleas,
or
Pellenore.
And
all
the
while
harmonious
airs
were
heard
Of
chiming
strings
or
charming
pipes;
and
winds
Of
gentlest
gale
Arabian
odours
fanned
From
their
soft
wings,
and
Flora's
earliest
smells.
Such
was
the
splendour;
and
the
Tempter
now
His
invitation
earnestly
renewed:—
"What
doubts
the
Son
of
God
to
sit
and
eat?
These
are
not
fruits
forbidden;
no
interdict
Defends
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
pay
Thee
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
diligence
In
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
voluntary
What
I
might
have
bestowed
on
whom
I
pleased,
And
rather
opportunely
in
this
place
Chose
to
impart
to
thy
apparent
need,
Why
shouldst
thou
not
accept
it?
But
I
see
What
I
can
do
or
offer
is
suspect.
Of
these
things
others
quickly
will
dispose,
Whose
pains
have
earned
the
far-fet
spoil."
With
that
Both
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,
thyself
Bred
up
in
poverty
and
straits
at
home,
Lost
in
a
desert
here
and
hunger-bit.
Which
way,
or
from
what
hope,
dost
thou
aspire
To
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
impotent
To
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
lad
Whose
offspring
on
the
throne
of
Juda
sate
So
many
ages,
and
shall
yet
regain
That
seat,
and
reign
in
Israel
without
end.
Among
the
Heathen
(for
throughout
the
world
To
me
is
not
unknown
what
hath
been
done
Worthy
of
memorial)
canst
thou
not
remember
Quintius,
Fabricius,
Curius,
Regulus?
For
I
esteem
those
names
of
men
so
poor,
Who
could
do
mighty
things,
and
could
contemn
Riches,
though
offered
from
the
hand
of
kings.
And
what
in
me
seems
wanting
but
that
I
May
also
in
this
poverty
as
soon
Accomplish
what
they
did,
perhaps
and
more?
Extol
not
riches,
then,
the
toil
of
fools,
The
wise
man's
cumbrance,
if
not
snare;
more
apt
To
slacken
virtue
and
abate
her
edge
Than
prompt
her
to
do
aught
may
merit
praise.
What
if
with
like
aversion
I
reject
Riches
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
rules
Passions,
desires,
and
fears,
is
more
a
king—
Which
every
wise
and
virtuous
man
attains;
And
who
attains
not,
ill
aspires
to
rule
Cities
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
truth
By
saving
doctrine,
and
from
error
lead
To
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
mind
So
reigning
can
be
no
sincere
delight.
Besides,
to
give
a
kingdom
hath
been
thought
Greater
and
nobler
done,
and
to
lay
down
Far
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."
