 | The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison |  |
202
Part of the 38th and 39th Chapters of Job,
Paraphras'd in Blank Verse.
But now the Lord ineffable and bright,
Shot thro' the Regions of eternal Day;
Swift as the Lightnings that his Vengeance throws,
Buoy'd up with Whirlwinds, on a Cherub's Wings,
He rode; all Nature trembled at her Lord,
And quiv'ring Mountains bow'd their aged Heads;
Whilst in a Storm of Thunders thus he spoke.
Shot thro' the Regions of eternal Day;
Swift as the Lightnings that his Vengeance throws,
Buoy'd up with Whirlwinds, on a Cherub's Wings,
He rode; all Nature trembled at her Lord,
And quiv'ring Mountains bow'd their aged Heads;
Whilst in a Storm of Thunders thus he spoke.
Presumptuous Man that dar'st upbraid thy God,
Shew the Omnipotence of which thou boasts;
Awake thy Wisdom's Eye, with which thou dar'st
Eclipse thy God's, and dive into his Secrets,
Collect thy self, and let us try our Godheads.
Shew the Omnipotence of which thou boasts;
203
Eclipse thy God's, and dive into his Secrets,
Collect thy self, and let us try our Godheads.
Wast thou a Being when no Being was,
When Night and Darkness brooded o'er the Chaos,
In endless Anarchy and wild Disorder?
Didst thou from Nothing form this mighty Globe,
On nothing hung, but pois'd in fluid Air
Immoveable? or can thy dreaded Word
Dissolve again its brittle Form to Nothing?
Come shew some Miracle of Power and Wisdom,
And make thy wonderful Creator wise.
When Night and Darkness brooded o'er the Chaos,
In endless Anarchy and wild Disorder?
Didst thou from Nothing form this mighty Globe,
On nothing hung, but pois'd in fluid Air
Immoveable? or can thy dreaded Word
Dissolve again its brittle Form to Nothing?
Come shew some Miracle of Power and Wisdom,
And make thy wonderful Creator wise.
If since, thou hast attain'd this Power and Knowledge,
Who canst thou boast the Tutor of thy Godhead—
Thy self? exert thy Power upon thy self—
Whence came those dire Afflictions that oppress thee?
Dost thou afflict thy self? or canst thou cleanse
Thy self from all those pestilential Pains?
Since from thy self thou canst not boast this Power,
From whence can it proceed but from thy God?
Thy God, above all Power, all Light, all Knowlege!
Who canst thou boast the Tutor of thy Godhead—
Thy self? exert thy Power upon thy self—
Whence came those dire Afflictions that oppress thee?
Dost thou afflict thy self? or canst thou cleanse
Thy self from all those pestilential Pains?
204
From whence can it proceed but from thy God?
Thy God, above all Power, all Light, all Knowlege!
Fond Man, who know'st not how, or whence thou art,
Curb this distemper'd Weakness of thy Brain:
How canst thou mimic God, and challenge Nature,
Who hast not the least Power o'er thy self!
Say, can thy Thunder shake the solid Earth?
Or can thy Voice, like mine, affright all Nature?
Canst thou, like me, on winged Whirlwinds ride
Thro' all the boundless Realms of endless Day?
Dost thou shew bloody Comets in the Air,
That shake Destruction from their flaming Tresses?
Or hast thou seen the silent Seats of Death,
Where Famine, War, and Plagues, and Pestilence
Attend my Nod? Grim Ministers of Fate:
Hast thou beheld the Chambers of the Deep,
Where Ocean rises from his Coral Bed,
Huge Marine Monsters gambol o'er the Ooze;
Or hunt among the Waves their panting Prey.
Say, didst thou form the great Leviathan,
That seems a living Island, when he moves,
He boils the Sea, and spouts it in a Tide.
Curb this distemper'd Weakness of thy Brain:
How canst thou mimic God, and challenge Nature,
Who hast not the least Power o'er thy self!
Say, can thy Thunder shake the solid Earth?
Or can thy Voice, like mine, affright all Nature?
Canst thou, like me, on winged Whirlwinds ride
Thro' all the boundless Realms of endless Day?
Dost thou shew bloody Comets in the Air,
That shake Destruction from their flaming Tresses?
Or hast thou seen the silent Seats of Death,
Where Famine, War, and Plagues, and Pestilence
Attend my Nod? Grim Ministers of Fate:
Hast thou beheld the Chambers of the Deep,
205
Huge Marine Monsters gambol o'er the Ooze;
Or hunt among the Waves their panting Prey.
Say, didst thou form the great Leviathan,
That seems a living Island, when he moves,
He boils the Sea, and spouts it in a Tide.
When rosy Morning gilds the gladsom Sky,
Dost thou with liquid Diamonds sow the East?
Guard'st thou the Sun o'er the cœlestial Plain,
Thro' his nocturnal, and diurnal Course?
Because he travels round the spacious Globe;
Will he obsequious bear thy dread Behests;
Can'st thou with deeper Roses paint the Welkin,
And draw the sable Curtain of the West?
Hush ev'ry Wind that curls the glassy Ocean,
And ev'ry Breeze that waves the drowsy Grove?
Can'st thou on all bestow soft balmy Slumbers,
And cannot give thy self that wish'd-for Sleep?
Dost thou ordain the pale-fac'd waning Moon
To guide the Night, and fill the Stars with Flame?
To swell the Tide, or press the faint Reflux;
White spungy Clouds imbibe the lazy Vapours,
And brew a Tempest on the hoary Main?
At thy Command do roaring Channels rise,
Sweep away Plains, and thunder thro' the Woods?
Or can'st thou candy up a Silver Tempest,
To cloath the naked Year with Silver Snow?
Or treasure up thy stony Magazines,
Then pour the fatt'ning War upon the Ground?
Dost thou unlock the Bosom of the Spring,
When blust'ring Flora languishingly courts
Young vernal Zephyr with soft Blandishments?
At thy Command does Autumn crown the Year
With golden Pride and hoary Majesty?
Do all the Seasons their fix'd Stations keep,
And dance in mystic Order to thy Word?
Say, dost thou paint the Peacock's gaudy Plumes
With streaming Azure, and with waving Gold;
Here blushing Purples flow in fading Greens,
But waving vanish in a golden Breeze:
With what majestic Air he stalks along,
Struts in his Gait, and spreads his painted Pride?
Dost thou with liquid Diamonds sow the East?
Guard'st thou the Sun o'er the cœlestial Plain,
Thro' his nocturnal, and diurnal Course?
Because he travels round the spacious Globe;
Will he obsequious bear thy dread Behests;
Can'st thou with deeper Roses paint the Welkin,
And draw the sable Curtain of the West?
Hush ev'ry Wind that curls the glassy Ocean,
And ev'ry Breeze that waves the drowsy Grove?
Can'st thou on all bestow soft balmy Slumbers,
And cannot give thy self that wish'd-for Sleep?
206
To guide the Night, and fill the Stars with Flame?
To swell the Tide, or press the faint Reflux;
White spungy Clouds imbibe the lazy Vapours,
And brew a Tempest on the hoary Main?
At thy Command do roaring Channels rise,
Sweep away Plains, and thunder thro' the Woods?
Or can'st thou candy up a Silver Tempest,
To cloath the naked Year with Silver Snow?
Or treasure up thy stony Magazines,
Then pour the fatt'ning War upon the Ground?
Dost thou unlock the Bosom of the Spring,
When blust'ring Flora languishingly courts
Young vernal Zephyr with soft Blandishments?
At thy Command does Autumn crown the Year
With golden Pride and hoary Majesty?
Do all the Seasons their fix'd Stations keep,
And dance in mystic Order to thy Word?
Say, dost thou paint the Peacock's gaudy Plumes
With streaming Azure, and with waving Gold;
207
But waving vanish in a golden Breeze:
With what majestic Air he stalks along,
Struts in his Gait, and spreads his painted Pride?
Could then thy Hand create the brinded Lion,
That makes thee tremble at his very Voice?
Or wilt thou make him (seeing he is strong)
To bear thy Burdens, and to be thy Slave?
Dost thou direct the rapid Eagle's Wings
To sail thro' fluid Fields of floating Air,
There with his Beak to souse upon his Prey?
Or darting from a Cloud to truss a Serpent,
Aloft again he towers his Flight, in vain
The hissing Captive whisks his scaly Tail.
That makes thee tremble at his very Voice?
Or wilt thou make him (seeing he is strong)
To bear thy Burdens, and to be thy Slave?
Dost thou direct the rapid Eagle's Wings
To sail thro' fluid Fields of floating Air,
There with his Beak to souse upon his Prey?
Or darting from a Cloud to truss a Serpent,
Aloft again he towers his Flight, in vain
The hissing Captive whisks his scaly Tail.
Dost thou the Courser's rapid Force maintain,
With Thunder arm his Neck, his Feet with Lightning?
When from afar he hears the Din of Arms,
He list'ning stands, he stamps, he pricks his Ears:
If stronger Echoes bear the flying Noise,
Confus'd with clatt'ring and with rattling Shields,
He shoots his Neck to catch the noisy War,
And drowns the Thunder with his louder Voice;
But if he see the flashing Storm aloof,
The fighting Captains, and the flaming War
He dims the dazling Splendours of bright Arms,
With more incessant Light'ning from his Eye;
He fires, he foams, nor hears the Rider's Voice;
But leaves his Eye behind the rolling Plain,
And bears him in a Tempest on the Foe.
With Thunder arm his Neck, his Feet with Lightning?
When from afar he hears the Din of Arms,
He list'ning stands, he stamps, he pricks his Ears:
208
Confus'd with clatt'ring and with rattling Shields,
He shoots his Neck to catch the noisy War,
And drowns the Thunder with his louder Voice;
But if he see the flashing Storm aloof,
The fighting Captains, and the flaming War
He dims the dazling Splendours of bright Arms,
With more incessant Light'ning from his Eye;
He fires, he foams, nor hears the Rider's Voice;
But leaves his Eye behind the rolling Plain,
And bears him in a Tempest on the Foe.
| The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison | |