A paraphrase on the Book of Job As likewise on the Songs of Moses, Deborah, David: On Four Select Psalms: Some Chapters of Isaiah, and the Third Chapter of Habakkuk. By Sir Richard Blackmore |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
Chap. XIV.
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| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
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Chap. XIV.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job |  |
Chap. XIV.
Unhappy Man as soon as Born decays,
He numbers few, and those uneasy Days.
As in a verdant Mead a blowing Flower,
The suddain Offspring of a Summer Shower,
Unfolds its Beauty to the Morning Ray,
But is e'er Evening Cut, or fades away:
So Man a while displays his gawdy Bloom,
But Death her crooked Scyth does soon assume,
Mows down, and bears her Harvest to the Tomb.
He, as a Shadow, or a Shape of Air,
Does suddainly dissolve and disappear.
The Flame of Life does, as a Lambent Fire,
Or Evening Meteor Shine, and strait expire.
And wilt thou Man regard, and condescend
With such a Wretch in Judgment to contend?
I am deriv'd from Man's infected Race,
A piece extracted from the tainted Mass.
Man propagates th' Hereditary Crime,
Nor does the Stain wear out by length of time.
From a base Stock can Noble Branches grow,
Or Crystal Streams from muddy Fountains flow?
I therefore can't a faultless Life protest,
I own Offences common to the best;
Unclean I am, but not above the Rest.
This is the thing I humbly would demand,
Why I am singled out, and made to stand
The chiefest Mark of God's avenging hand.
He numbers few, and those uneasy Days.
As in a verdant Mead a blowing Flower,
The suddain Offspring of a Summer Shower,
58
But is e'er Evening Cut, or fades away:
So Man a while displays his gawdy Bloom,
But Death her crooked Scyth does soon assume,
Mows down, and bears her Harvest to the Tomb.
He, as a Shadow, or a Shape of Air,
Does suddainly dissolve and disappear.
The Flame of Life does, as a Lambent Fire,
Or Evening Meteor Shine, and strait expire.
And wilt thou Man regard, and condescend
With such a Wretch in Judgment to contend?
I am deriv'd from Man's infected Race,
A piece extracted from the tainted Mass.
Man propagates th' Hereditary Crime,
Nor does the Stain wear out by length of time.
From a base Stock can Noble Branches grow,
Or Crystal Streams from muddy Fountains flow?
I therefore can't a faultless Life protest,
I own Offences common to the best;
Unclean I am, but not above the Rest.
This is the thing I humbly would demand,
Why I am singled out, and made to stand
The chiefest Mark of God's avenging hand.
Since thou dost know Man's Days, and canst relate
Their number written in the Rolls of Fate,
And hast determin'd Lifes laborious Race,
And set the Bounds o'er which it cannot pass;
Since his few fleeting Hours are quickly spent,
And painful Life is its own Punishment;
Let this suffice, and do not on him throw
A crushing weight of superadded Woe.
Grant him the Rest his Torments make him ask;
And let him finish Life's appointed Task.
For if a Swain with mercenary toil
Cuts down a Tree, and drags away the Spoil;
Still there is hope that Tree again may sprout,
And from its Stock thrust tender-Branches out.
For tho' the Root defrauded of Supply,
Appears to Wither in the Ground, and Dy;
Yet when it feels the fresh prolific Flood,
It will again with youthful Vigour bud.
But when a dying Man resigns his Breath,
He ne'er returns from the dark Shades of Death.
The Sea may suffer by deserting Waves
That steal thro' secret subterranean Caves,
Or by the lighter Steams which fly away,
Drawn by the Sun's attenuating Ray;
But Heav'n and Earth in Rivers and in Rain
Restore their Spoils, and reimburse the Main.
A flowing River, or a standing Lake,
May their dry Banks and naked Shores forsake;
Their Waters may exhale, and upwards move,
Their Channel leave to roll in Clouds above;
But the returning Winter will restore,
What in the Summer they had lost before:
The Snow and Rain, and Torrents, will repay
What the warm Sun stole with his plund'ring Ray,
And by his Summer Inroads bore away.
But if, O Man, thy vital Streams desert
Their Purple Channels, and defraud the Heart,
With fresh Recruits they ne'er will be supply'd,
Nor feel their leaping Life's returning Tyde.
When once the breathless Man has clos'd his Eyes,
And in the silent Grave extended lies;
In Death's close Prison he shall still remain,
He ne'er shall break from the rough Tyrant's Chain.
When the last stroke of Fate is once receiv'd,
This mortal Life can never be retriev'd.
Their number written in the Rolls of Fate,
And hast determin'd Lifes laborious Race,
And set the Bounds o'er which it cannot pass;
Since his few fleeting Hours are quickly spent,
And painful Life is its own Punishment;
59
A crushing weight of superadded Woe.
Grant him the Rest his Torments make him ask;
And let him finish Life's appointed Task.
For if a Swain with mercenary toil
Cuts down a Tree, and drags away the Spoil;
Still there is hope that Tree again may sprout,
And from its Stock thrust tender-Branches out.
For tho' the Root defrauded of Supply,
Appears to Wither in the Ground, and Dy;
Yet when it feels the fresh prolific Flood,
It will again with youthful Vigour bud.
But when a dying Man resigns his Breath,
He ne'er returns from the dark Shades of Death.
The Sea may suffer by deserting Waves
That steal thro' secret subterranean Caves,
Or by the lighter Steams which fly away,
Drawn by the Sun's attenuating Ray;
But Heav'n and Earth in Rivers and in Rain
Restore their Spoils, and reimburse the Main.
A flowing River, or a standing Lake,
May their dry Banks and naked Shores forsake;
Their Waters may exhale, and upwards move,
Their Channel leave to roll in Clouds above;
But the returning Winter will restore,
What in the Summer they had lost before:
The Snow and Rain, and Torrents, will repay
What the warm Sun stole with his plund'ring Ray,
And by his Summer Inroads bore away.
60
Their Purple Channels, and defraud the Heart,
With fresh Recruits they ne'er will be supply'd,
Nor feel their leaping Life's returning Tyde.
When once the breathless Man has clos'd his Eyes,
And in the silent Grave extended lies;
In Death's close Prison he shall still remain,
He ne'er shall break from the rough Tyrant's Chain.
When the last stroke of Fate is once receiv'd,
This mortal Life can never be retriev'd.
Would God would hide me in some hollow Cave,
Some place as safe, and silent, as the Grave;
Till these black Storms of Wrath which overcast,
The low'ring Heav'n's around my Head are past.
As he has done to Life, so let him set
Bounds to my Grief, and not those Bounds forget.
Since none who enter once the darksome Tomb,
This mortal Life can afterwards resume;
'Tis best for me with patient Hope to wait,
Till God is pleas'd to change this mournful State.
Till he is pleas'd his Blessings to restore,
Those sweet Enjoyments I possess'd before.
Then shall he call, and with a gracious Ear
He'll my Defence and Supplications hear.
Then to his Creature he will Kindness show,
Revive my Comforts, and remove my Woe.
Some place as safe, and silent, as the Grave;
Till these black Storms of Wrath which overcast,
The low'ring Heav'n's around my Head are past.
As he has done to Life, so let him set
Bounds to my Grief, and not those Bounds forget.
Since none who enter once the darksome Tomb,
This mortal Life can afterwards resume;
'Tis best for me with patient Hope to wait,
Till God is pleas'd to change this mournful State.
Till he is pleas'd his Blessings to restore,
Those sweet Enjoyments I possess'd before.
Then shall he call, and with a gracious Ear
He'll my Defence and Supplications hear.
Then to his Creature he will Kindness show,
Revive my Comforts, and remove my Woe.
But oh! how different is my present Fate;
For now th' Allmighty loves to lye in wait
To take me halting, what a watchful Eye
Does he employ my Errors to descry?
This search he makes, as if he Pleasure took,
To find fresh Reasons to repeat his Stroke.
He in a strong and secret place has stor'd
My Sins; as wealthy Men their Treasures hoard.
He Seals up my Transgressions, not a fault
Is e'er left out, not an ill Word or Thought;
Nor is th' impending Punishment forgot.
As a high Hill with stormy Weather worn,
With inbred Tempests, or with Thunder torn,
Does with its Ruins all the Vally spread,
But can no more erect his lofty Head:
Moulder'd to Dust, it hopes no more to break
The Clouds long Order with its snowy Peak.
As a vast Rock by Earthquakes once remov'd,
And from its Base amidst the Ocean shov'd;
It's shatter'd Pillars never after reers,
Nor thrusts his tow'ring Top amidst the Stars.
As Stones which ever-flowing Waters wear,
When once dissolv'd, their Ruins ne'er repair.
As sweeping Inundations oft convey
Towns, Herds, and Forrests floating to the Sea,
Whence to return they never find a way.
So when thy fatal Darts a Man destroy,
The World's Delights he shall no more enjoy.
He never from the Sepulcher shall rise,
No more revive to see the lightsome Skies.
He leaves his Honour and his Wealth behind,
And quite another Face of things will find.
He's unconcern'd at what's transacted here;
For if his Sons shine in a noble Sphere,
He'll not rejoyce, nor will he e'er complain
If they are crush'd, and drag the Pris'ners Chain.
Hard Fate of Man, who either, if he dies
Hopeless of e'er reviving, mould'ring lies;
Or if he lives, must still expect to find
Pain in his Flesh, and Anguish in his Mind.
For now th' Allmighty loves to lye in wait
61
Does he employ my Errors to descry?
This search he makes, as if he Pleasure took,
To find fresh Reasons to repeat his Stroke.
He in a strong and secret place has stor'd
My Sins; as wealthy Men their Treasures hoard.
He Seals up my Transgressions, not a fault
Is e'er left out, not an ill Word or Thought;
Nor is th' impending Punishment forgot.
As a high Hill with stormy Weather worn,
With inbred Tempests, or with Thunder torn,
Does with its Ruins all the Vally spread,
But can no more erect his lofty Head:
Moulder'd to Dust, it hopes no more to break
The Clouds long Order with its snowy Peak.
As a vast Rock by Earthquakes once remov'd,
And from its Base amidst the Ocean shov'd;
It's shatter'd Pillars never after reers,
Nor thrusts his tow'ring Top amidst the Stars.
As Stones which ever-flowing Waters wear,
When once dissolv'd, their Ruins ne'er repair.
As sweeping Inundations oft convey
Towns, Herds, and Forrests floating to the Sea,
Whence to return they never find a way.
So when thy fatal Darts a Man destroy,
The World's Delights he shall no more enjoy.
He never from the Sepulcher shall rise,
No more revive to see the lightsome Skies.
He leaves his Honour and his Wealth behind,
And quite another Face of things will find.
62
For if his Sons shine in a noble Sphere,
He'll not rejoyce, nor will he e'er complain
If they are crush'd, and drag the Pris'ners Chain.
Hard Fate of Man, who either, if he dies
Hopeless of e'er reviving, mould'ring lies;
Or if he lives, must still expect to find
Pain in his Flesh, and Anguish in his Mind.
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Chap. XIV.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job | |