 | Scenes from Scripture with Other Poems |  |
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THE THIRD TEMPTATION.
“Again the Devil taketh Him up into an exceeding high mountain, and showeth Him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them.
“And saith unto Him: ‘All these things will I give Thee, if Thou wilt fall down and worship me.’
“Then saith Jesus unto him: ‘Get thee hence, Satan; for it is written,thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve.’”—
Matthew iv, 8.
The mountain is a blaze of light!
Who stands upon its topmost height?
His only robe the lightning,
His burning crown, his tossing wing;
Nor spear, nor sceptre, in his hand,
But, flashing from his eye, command!
There, Tempter, towers the haughty frame,
That not the thunderbolt could tame;
Nor age on age's dreary flight,
Nor dungeons of eternal night:
In pride, in grandeur and despair,
There stands the Princedom of the Air.
Who stands upon its topmost height?
His only robe the lightning,
His burning crown, his tossing wing;
Nor spear, nor sceptre, in his hand,
But, flashing from his eye, command!
There, Tempter, towers the haughty frame,
That not the thunderbolt could tame;
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Nor dungeons of eternal night:
In pride, in grandeur and despair,
There stands the Princedom of the Air.
Who stands upon the mountain's height?
No form of majesty and might,
No splendours darting from his robe,
To startle, or to blast, the globe;
But patience in his Heavenward eye,
Like one who came to toil, and die.
The Infant of the Virgin's womb—
He comes to make the Earth His tomb;
Beneath the Pagan scourge to bleed,
To bear the sceptre of the reed;
To wear the robe of mockery,
To meet the scorn, the taunt, the lie;
To feel the tortures of the slave;
Victor, yet victim, of the grave!
With more than mortal anguish wan,
Stands, on that height, the Son of Man!
Twice had His holy strength been tried.
Twice had He smote the Tempter's pride;
But now along the desert-sand
Bursts, tempest-like, the wild command:
“Ye kingdoms, in your glory rise.”
Earth hears it from her farthest skies.
No form of majesty and might,
No splendours darting from his robe,
To startle, or to blast, the globe;
But patience in his Heavenward eye,
Like one who came to toil, and die.
The Infant of the Virgin's womb—
He comes to make the Earth His tomb;
Beneath the Pagan scourge to bleed,
To bear the sceptre of the reed;
To wear the robe of mockery,
To meet the scorn, the taunt, the lie;
To feel the tortures of the slave;
Victor, yet victim, of the grave!
With more than mortal anguish wan,
Stands, on that height, the Son of Man!
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Twice had He smote the Tempter's pride;
But now along the desert-sand
Bursts, tempest-like, the wild command:
“Ye kingdoms, in your glory rise.”
Earth hears it from her farthest skies.
From the chill Tartar's boundless plain,
From jewelled India's mountain-chain;
From forest depth, and golden cave,
Beyond the Ocean's western wave;
The visions of the Empires come,
Circling thy central glory, Rome!
From jewelled India's mountain-chain;
From forest depth, and golden cave,
Beyond the Ocean's western wave;
The visions of the Empires come,
Circling thy central glory, Rome!
The wild command is heard once more!
In panoply Earth's millions pour;
As, borne upon the eagle's wings,
Rise the rich musterings of her kings;
Helm, turban, golden diadem,
Pour onward like a fiery stream,
On horse, on foot, on scythed car;
The living hurricane of war!
As rushed they on the Tempter's gaze
Around him shot a broader blaze;
The flash of triumph in his eye,
His words, the words of Victory;
“Man, wouldst thou wear of crowns the crown,
Worship its Lord; the World's thine own.”
In panoply Earth's millions pour;
As, borne upon the eagle's wings,
Rise the rich musterings of her kings;
Helm, turban, golden diadem,
Pour onward like a fiery stream,
On horse, on foot, on scythed car;
The living hurricane of war!
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Around him shot a broader blaze;
The flash of triumph in his eye,
His words, the words of Victory;
“Man, wouldst thou wear of crowns the crown,
Worship its Lord; the World's thine own.”
The grandeur of the God awoke!
In sounds of death the Judgment broke:
“Satan avaunt!”—Despair, Despair,
Was in his groan, and shrinking glare;
Prone on his face, the guilt-struck fell!
The panther bounded at his yell.
The viper started from the spring,
The vulture rushed upon the wing.
The jackall cower'd beside the dead,
The hungry lion howled and fled.
The vision and the fiend were gone!
There stood the Conqueror—alone.
In sounds of death the Judgment broke:
“Satan avaunt!”—Despair, Despair,
Was in his groan, and shrinking glare;
Prone on his face, the guilt-struck fell!
The panther bounded at his yell.
The viper started from the spring,
The vulture rushed upon the wing.
The jackall cower'd beside the dead,
The hungry lion howled and fled.
The vision and the fiend were gone!
There stood the Conqueror—alone.
But o'er the mountain's pinnacle,
What splendours upon splendours swell,
What more than mortal harmonies,
What clouds of more than incense rise!
The shout of joy, the holy hymn,
Are from your lips, ye Seraphim;
Your shout, your song, “for Man forgiven,”
Your King, Messiah, King of Heaven!
What splendours upon splendours swell,
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What clouds of more than incense rise!
The shout of joy, the holy hymn,
Are from your lips, ye Seraphim;
Your shout, your song, “for Man forgiven,”
Your King, Messiah, King of Heaven!
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