REDEMPTION. 155
The dismal confines of Bethbera's wastes.
Solitary went the Son of God his way,
While on his steps perdu the Devil hung;
In guile than whom ^Egyptus Cetes calls,
Far more expert, who, on Carpathian shores,
So said, transmutes his slipp'ry form ; now seems
A tusked boar, with bristly hide, and now
A tree, with stately foliage crown'd ; then glides
A stream, rolling its amber flood transverse
The plains ; here blows a storm, and there a breeze,
Balmy reposing on some placid sea ;
In every form quick to elude the grasp,
Or covert, 'scape from every ambush set.
Thus Satan now his various tricks employs,
T' elude the vigilance of God made man.
One while a serpent's folds enclose him round,
And then a spotted leopard sly conceals;
A lion next, he gleams wfth savage glare,
Or as a vulture, on some jutting cliff,
Looks gloating down, where'er he wends his way.
Thus mask'd, the grand Deceiver changed his form,
As oft as whom he sought, his place, and roam'd,
Or flew, now far, now near, for prospect large,
Or close, waiting some vantage gain'd, intent
On bended wing to swoop, or couchant spring
From bush or brake, his unsuspecting prey
To seize ; but strangely felt himself withheld,
And felt how thin was all disguise with him,
On whom his fruitless wiles were now display'd.
For him, th' omniscient Saviour thus beheld,
And heeded not, but onward moved, stately
With royal step, whilst innate dignity
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