By which they knew thee King of Israel born. Just Simeon and Prophetic Anna, warn'd By Vision, found thee in the Temple, and spake Before the Altar and the vested Priest, Like things of thee to all that present stood. This having heard, strait I again revolv'd The Law and Prophets, searching what was writ 260 Concerning the Messiah, to our Scribes Known partly, and soon found of whom they spake I am; this chiefly, that my way must lie Through many a hard assay even to the death, E're I the promis'd Kingdom can attain, Or work redemption for mankind, whose sins Full weight must be transferr'd upon my head. Yet neither thus disheartn'd or dismay'd, The time prefixt I waited, when behold The Baptist, (of whose birth I oft had heard, 270 Not knew by sight) now come, who was to come Before Messiah and his way prepare. I as all others to his Baptism came, Which I believ'd was from above; but he Strait knew me, and with loudest voice proclaim'd Me him (for it was shew'n him so from Heaven) Me him whose Harbinger he was; and first Refus'd on me his Baptism to confer, As much his greater, and was hardly won; But as I rose out of the laving stream, 280 Heaven open'd her eternal doors, from whence The Spirit descended on me like a Dove, And last the sum of all, my Father's voice, Audibly heard from Heav'n, pronounc'd me his, Me his beloved Son, in whom alone He was well pleas'd; by which I knew the time Now full, that I no more should live obscure, But openly begin, as best becomes The Authority which I deriv'd from Heaven. And now by some strong motion I am led 290 Into this wilderness, to what intent I learn not yet, perhaps I need not know; For what concerns my knowledge God reveals. So spake our Morning Star then in his rise, And looking round on every side beheld A pathless Desert, dusk with horrid shades; The way he came not having mark'd, return Was difficult, by humane steps untrod; And he still on was led, but with such thoughts Accompanied of things past and to come 300 Lodg'd in his brest, as well might recommend Such Solitude before choicest Society. Full forty days he pass'd, whether on hill Sometimes, anon in shady vale, each night Under the covert of some ancient Oak, Or Cedar, to defend him from the dew, Or harbour'd in one Cave, is not reveal'd; Nor tasted humane food, nor hunger felt Till those days ended, hunger'd then at last Among wild Beasts: they at his sight grew mild, 310 Nor sleeping him nor waking harm'd, his walk The fiery Serpent fled, and noxious Worm, The Lion and fierce Tiger glar'd aloof. But now an aged man in Rural weeds, Following, as seem'd, the quest of some stray Ewe, Or wither'd sticks to gather; which might serve