HENRY KIRKE WniTE*S POEMS. 



"With homely greeting, and may sit and eat: 

 For forty days I have tarried fasting here, 



Hid in the dark glens of this lone retreat, 

 And now I hunger ; and ra}' fainting ear 

 Longs much to greet the sound of fountains gushing near.' 



XVIII. 



" Then thus I answer'd wily : — ' If, indeed, 



Son of our God thou be'st, what need to seek 

 For food from men ? — Lo ! on these flint stones feed, 

 Bid them be bread ! Open thy lips and speak, 

 And living rills from yon parch'd rock will break.' 

 Instant as I had spoke, his piercing eye 



Fix'd on my face ; the blood forsook my cheek, 

 I could not bear his gaze ; my mask slipped by ; 

 1 would have shunn'd his look, but had not power to fly. 



" Then he rebuked me with the holy Word — 

 Accursed sounds ! but now my native pride 

 Returned, and by no foolish qualm deterr'd, 

 I bore him from the mountain's woody side, 

 Up to the summit, where extending vdde 

 Kingdoms and cities, palaces and fanes. 



Bright sparkling in the sunbeams, were descried, 

 And in gay dance, amid luxuriant plains, 

 Tripp'd to the jocund reed the emasculated swains. 



" ' Behold,* I cried, * these glories ! scenes divine ! 

 Thou whose sad prime in pining want decays, 

 And these, O rapture ! these shall all be thine. 

 If thou wilt give to me, not God, the praise. 

 Hath he not given to indigence thy days ? 

 Is not thy portion peril here and pain ? 



Oh ! leave his temples, shun his wounding ways ! 

 Seize the tiara ! these mean weeds disdain, 

 Kneel, kneel, thou man of woe, and peace and splendour 

 gain.' 



