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