 | Job |  |
JOB.
A POEM.
In Three Books.
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To the most Reverend Father in God, His Grace, THOMAS, Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, This POEM Is most humbly inscribed By His Grace's Very obedient, and dutiful Son, and Servant, W. Langhorne
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BOOK I.
Where the wide East displays her festive Scenes,
Ambrosial Groves, and ever-blooming Greens;
Where lavish Nature smiles, profusely gay,
Yet like the Dawn of Eden's happier Day;
In Georgia's Vales, or sweet Circassia's Plain
Dwells Peace or Pleasure unperplex'd with Pain?
Their Citron-fruits the Tartar fierce devours,
And the fell Arab dies with Blood their Flow'rs.
But where no Tyrants rage, no Foes destroy,
With Freedom sure to live is to enjoy.
No, not with Freedom must we hope for Peace,
For nat'ral Evils vex, where moral cease.
Nor here, nor there true Happiness can dwell;
He makes the best of Life, who bears it well.
Ambrosial Groves, and ever-blooming Greens;
Where lavish Nature smiles, profusely gay,
Yet like the Dawn of Eden's happier Day;
In Georgia's Vales, or sweet Circassia's Plain
Dwells Peace or Pleasure unperplex'd with Pain?
Their Citron-fruits the Tartar fierce devours,
And the fell Arab dies with Blood their Flow'rs.
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With Freedom sure to live is to enjoy.
No, not with Freedom must we hope for Peace,
For nat'ral Evils vex, where moral cease.
Nor here, nor there true Happiness can dwell;
He makes the best of Life, who bears it well.
Of Children, Fortune, and of Health bereft,
With nothing now but Life and Virtue left,
Immortal Job, resign'd to Heav'n's Command,
Bless'd, as the giving, the resuming Hand.
No Stoic Pride the Pow'r of Mis'ry spurn'd,
As Man he suffer'd, and as Man he mourn'd;
His Fate, submissive to his God, deplor'd,
And Grief complain'd, while Piety ador'd.
With nothing now but Life and Virtue left,
Immortal Job, resign'd to Heav'n's Command,
Bless'd, as the giving, the resuming Hand.
No Stoic Pride the Pow'r of Mis'ry spurn'd,
As Man he suffer'd, and as Man he mourn'd;
His Fate, submissive to his God, deplor'd,
And Grief complain'd, while Piety ador'd.
“Black with unwonted Horrors be the Morn,
When to emphatic Mis'ries Job was born!
Let not th' emerging Sun's reviving Ray
Pierce thro' the Gloom of that detested Day!
All inauspicious let that Dawn appear,
The most abhorr'd of all the circling Year!
Thou Moon, astonish'd, veil thy silver Light;
Let Death's grim Shadow stain that hapless Night,
Which to such flowing Sorrows wak'd these Eyes,
This Heart to heave with unavailing Sighs!
The fost'ring Knees why did my Weakness find?
Why from the Womb was not my Breath resign'd?
Oh! had my secret Birth abortive been!
Lock'd in the Grave, no Face of Sorrow seen!
When to emphatic Mis'ries Job was born!
Let not th' emerging Sun's reviving Ray
Pierce thro' the Gloom of that detested Day!
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The most abhorr'd of all the circling Year!
Thou Moon, astonish'd, veil thy silver Light;
Let Death's grim Shadow stain that hapless Night,
Which to such flowing Sorrows wak'd these Eyes,
This Heart to heave with unavailing Sighs!
The fost'ring Knees why did my Weakness find?
Why from the Womb was not my Breath resign'd?
Oh! had my secret Birth abortive been!
Lock'd in the Grave, no Face of Sorrow seen!
O kind Retreat from Woes, impartial Grave!
Where Liberty, long sought, relieves the Slave;
Where, from their Burden freed, the Weary rest,
Like Brethren sleep th' Oppressor and opprest.
Where Liberty, long sought, relieves the Slave;
Where, from their Burden freed, the Weary rest,
Like Brethren sleep th' Oppressor and opprest.
Why beams the Day-spring on the Wretch's Head?
Why Life to those who Paths of Anguish tread?
Who Death's dim Gloom with anxious Sorrow crave,
And, eager as for Gold, would dig the Grave.
Why Life to those who Paths of Anguish tread?
Who Death's dim Gloom with anxious Sorrow crave,
And, eager as for Gold, would dig the Grave.
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Caught in the bitter Waves I dreaded most,
My Peace is in the madd'ning Torrents lost.
Did I in prosp'rous Gales too proudly fly,
That whelming Storms should rise, and dreadful frown the Sky?”
My Peace is in the madd'ning Torrents lost.
Did I in prosp'rous Gales too proudly fly,
That whelming Storms should rise, and dreadful frown the Sky?”
This sharp Rebuke then Eliphaz return'd,
Reproach'd the Mourner, while the Friend he mourn'd.
Reproach'd the Mourner, while the Friend he mourn'd.
“Sure once thy Ray did clear Instruction dart,
Brac'd the weak Arm, and chear'd the fainting Heart:
But now the Rod thy trembling Weakness knows,
It yields, it falls, it sinks beneath the Blows.
Here ends thy pious Hope, thy filial Fear,
Thy Conscience boasted as the Noon-day clear.
Brac'd the weak Arm, and chear'd the fainting Heart:
But now the Rod thy trembling Weakness knows,
It yields, it falls, it sinks beneath the Blows.
Here ends thy pious Hope, thy filial Fear,
Thy Conscience boasted as the Noon-day clear.
Inspect with Care the present, trace the past,
Did e'er the Righteous feel th' avenging Blast?
Did e'er the Righteous feel th' avenging Blast?
My wond'ring Ear in Night's most solemn Hours,
Receiv'd a Message from th' unbody'd Pow'rs.
The aweful Voice appall'd, the Vision struck,
The vital Force my shudd'ring Limbs forsook.
Stiff were these Hairs, these Eyes with Terror pale,
All, all the Faculties of Nature fail.
A Voice immortal the dread Silence breaks,
Half-veil'd a Spirit stands, a Spirit speaks—
Receiv'd a Message from th' unbody'd Pow'rs.
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The vital Force my shudd'ring Limbs forsook.
Stiff were these Hairs, these Eyes with Terror pale,
All, all the Faculties of Nature fail.
A Voice immortal the dread Silence breaks,
Half-veil'd a Spirit stands, a Spirit speaks—
“Shall Man in Justice with the Godhead vie,
In Wisdom with the Mind that spread the Sky?
Ev'n the bright Beings who inhabit there,
Who ride the Winds, or roll the radiant Sphere,
In His dread Presence no Perfection boast,
For in His Light their Rays are swallow'd up and lost.
Dost thou then boast thy Tenement of Clay,
The Sport of Elements, of Worms the Prey?
In empty Air each vaunted Project flies;
The Mortal aims at Wisdom, thinks and dies.
In Wisdom with the Mind that spread the Sky?
Ev'n the bright Beings who inhabit there,
Who ride the Winds, or roll the radiant Sphere,
In His dread Presence no Perfection boast,
For in His Light their Rays are swallow'd up and lost.
Dost thou then boast thy Tenement of Clay,
The Sport of Elements, of Worms the Prey?
In empty Air each vaunted Project flies;
The Mortal aims at Wisdom, thinks and dies.
Trust, if thou wilt, in delegated Pow'r,
Angels invoke their healing Balm to show'r:
Can Angel-pow'rs bestow the Calm of Rest,
When Rage distends, or Envy tears the Breast?
Angels invoke their healing Balm to show'r:
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When Rage distends, or Envy tears the Breast?
In gaudy Colours Vice may bloom a-while;
The Canker bites; no more the Blossoms smile:
The Branch bright-waving in the sunny Ray,
The Flow'rs that glow'd in splendid Beauty gay,
All prostrate now in blasted Ruin lie,
Unpitied fall, and unregarded die.
The Canker bites; no more the Blossoms smile:
The Branch bright-waving in the sunny Ray,
The Flow'rs that glow'd in splendid Beauty gay,
All prostrate now in blasted Ruin lie,
Unpitied fall, and unregarded die.
To God my Soul would seek in humble Pray'r,
Whose ever-gracious Pow'r yon Skies declare,
While from their Stores descends the kindly Rain,
To wake the Flow'rs, and bless the grateful Plain:
For whom fair Justice lifts her faithful Scale,
And star-bright Truth removes the lying Veil:
While threat'ning Storms around the Guilty play,
And to nocturnal Horrors turn their Day.
Whose ever-gracious Pow'r yon Skies declare,
While from their Stores descends the kindly Rain,
To wake the Flow'rs, and bless the grateful Plain:
For whom fair Justice lifts her faithful Scale,
And star-bright Truth removes the lying Veil:
While threat'ning Storms around the Guilty play,
And to nocturnal Horrors turn their Day.
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Happy the Man who feels the chast'ning Rod;
Submissive then adore the Hand of God:
That God who pitying wounds, rejoicing heals,
And all the Yearnings of a Father feels.
His Hand shall skreen thee from encroaching Foes,
And bless thy smiling House with soft Repose.
Tho' pale-ey'd Famine rage, or War assail,
Thy Bread, thy Peace, thy Pleasure shall not fail.
Th' envenom'd Tongue shall ne'er thy Glory stain;
Nor shalt thou dread the Savage of the Plain.
A springing Seed thy gladden'd Eye shall see,
Like the fair Branches of some fruitful Tree.
And thou to Dust full-ripe shalt fall again,
As in it's Season's reap'd the genial Grain.”
Submissive then adore the Hand of God:
That God who pitying wounds, rejoicing heals,
And all the Yearnings of a Father feels.
His Hand shall skreen thee from encroaching Foes,
And bless thy smiling House with soft Repose.
Tho' pale-ey'd Famine rage, or War assail,
Thy Bread, thy Peace, thy Pleasure shall not fail.
Th' envenom'd Tongue shall ne'er thy Glory stain;
Nor shalt thou dread the Savage of the Plain.
A springing Seed thy gladden'd Eye shall see,
Like the fair Branches of some fruitful Tree.
And thou to Dust full-ripe shalt fall again,
As in it's Season's reap'd the genial Grain.”
Then thus the hapless Sire: “Dost thou upbraid?
Think, if these Woes were in the Balance laid,
The Sands of circling Seas would be out-weigh'd.
'Tis not in Words to image Griefs like mine,
Who faint, afflicted by the Darts Divine.
The Zebra mourns not till the Verdure dies,
When the blue Poison burns, this Heart to wailing flies.
Think, if these Woes were in the Balance laid,
The Sands of circling Seas would be out-weigh'd.
'Tis not in Words to image Griefs like mine,
Who faint, afflicted by the Darts Divine.
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When the blue Poison burns, this Heart to wailing flies.
Some seas'ning Salt insipid Food requires,
Some Ray of Hope my sick'ning Soul desires;
Some swift-descending Image of the Storm,
By Heav'n impow'r'd to crush this mould'ring Form.
Why the last Stroke of Fate should Mis'ry dread,
To sleep, untortur'd, with the silent dead?
No: Then th' oppressive Load I'd calmly bear,
And you the Weapons of Reproach would spare.
Some Ray of Hope my sick'ning Soul desires;
Some swift-descending Image of the Storm,
By Heav'n impow'r'd to crush this mould'ring Form.
Why the last Stroke of Fate should Mis'ry dread,
To sleep, untortur'd, with the silent dead?
No: Then th' oppressive Load I'd calmly bear,
And you the Weapons of Reproach would spare.
To whom but some kind Friend should Mis'ry fly,
To find the soft Relief of Pity's Eye?
As dries the sudden Flood's retiring Stream,
As Snow dissolves before the piercing Beam;
So when Affliction rear'd her flaming Head,
The flutt'ring Smiles of shallow Friendship fled:
So fled, O Temanite, thy vaunted Bands,
When Sheba's Thunder shook my hapless Lands.
Did I request your Vengeance on the Foe,
Or ask your Hoards their Treasure to bestow,
That Torrents of Reproof so freely flow?
How potent Truth well-tim'd, and Reason's Ray!
But You the Orphan crush, your Friend betray;
Read Lectures to Despair, that hears no more
Than the fierce North-wind in his madd'ning Roar.
Say, were this Bosom calm, these Passions still,
Could not mine Eye discern the Good from Ill?
Impartial to these Words of Truth attend,
And view with Sympathy your wretched Friend.
To find the soft Relief of Pity's Eye?
As dries the sudden Flood's retiring Stream,
As Snow dissolves before the piercing Beam;
So when Affliction rear'd her flaming Head,
The flutt'ring Smiles of shallow Friendship fled:
So fled, O Temanite, thy vaunted Bands,
When Sheba's Thunder shook my hapless Lands.
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Or ask your Hoards their Treasure to bestow,
That Torrents of Reproof so freely flow?
How potent Truth well-tim'd, and Reason's Ray!
But You the Orphan crush, your Friend betray;
Read Lectures to Despair, that hears no more
Than the fierce North-wind in his madd'ning Roar.
Say, were this Bosom calm, these Passions still,
Could not mine Eye discern the Good from Ill?
Impartial to these Words of Truth attend,
And view with Sympathy your wretched Friend.
Fix'd is the Day when Mis'ry will be past,
The utmost Time our Faculties can last.
As longs the Slave for Sleep's refreshing Bow'r,
As Hirelings sigh for Night's rewarding Hour,
So while vain Months protract this painful Breath,
Long harrass'd Virtue seeks Repose in Death.
The utmost Time our Faculties can last.
As longs the Slave for Sleep's refreshing Bow'r,
As Hirelings sigh for Night's rewarding Hour,
So while vain Months protract this painful Breath,
Long harrass'd Virtue seeks Repose in Death.
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On Seas of Pain reclines this Breast forlorn,
Tost with fell Anguish till the rising Morn.
The Beams of Morn this shrivell'd Form survey
O'erspread with Worms, and to Disease a Prey.
My Days of Hope are vanish'd into Wind,
And leave no Print of Happiness behind.
Will Heav'n the mould'ring Dust of Man restore?
By Nature's common Laws he breathes no more.
Is Job some Monster of the furious Flood,
That countless Shafts of Poison drink his Blood?
Hence these pale Looks, this sorrow-breathing Strain,
Hence Sighs unnumber'd to the Winds complain.
Tost with fell Anguish till the rising Morn.
The Beams of Morn this shrivell'd Form survey
O'erspread with Worms, and to Disease a Prey.
My Days of Hope are vanish'd into Wind,
And leave no Print of Happiness behind.
Will Heav'n the mould'ring Dust of Man restore?
By Nature's common Laws he breathes no more.
Is Job some Monster of the furious Flood,
That countless Shafts of Poison drink his Blood?
Hence these pale Looks, this sorrow-breathing Strain,
Hence Sighs unnumber'd to the Winds complain.
If Sleep, long-courted, close these aching Eyes,
Then hideous Forms, terrific Visions rise.
Then hideous Forms, terrific Visions rise.
Parent of sinless Beings, what is Man,
That thou to mighty Hopes should'st stretch his Span?
That thou his Works, his Errors should'st regard,
And give to ev'ry Soul it's just Reward?
Oh, spare, my God!—withdraw thy Hand again!
Let not each heaving Pulse be rack'd with Pain!
My Soul has sinn'd; I seek thy Mercy's Throne:
Ah! shall not humble Penitence atone?
Still threats thy Sword?—Ah! let it strike me dead,
Strike to the yawning Grave this willing Head!”
That thou to mighty Hopes should'st stretch his Span?
That thou his Works, his Errors should'st regard,
And give to ev'ry Soul it's just Reward?
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Let not each heaving Pulse be rack'd with Pain!
My Soul has sinn'd; I seek thy Mercy's Throne:
Ah! shall not humble Penitence atone?
Still threats thy Sword?—Ah! let it strike me dead,
Strike to the yawning Grave this willing Head!”
Then Bildad, from the Stock of
Shuah sprung,
Reply'd; “How long shall that wild-wailing Tongue
Taint the pure Air, like some destroying Wind,
And mark a Blemish in the perfect Mind?
Unrighteous in his Sight thy Sons appear'd,
And Vengeance in their Blood her Faulchion smear'd.
But if thy Prayer be pure, thy Breast sincere,
The God of Truth will lend a fav'ring Ear;
Will raise thy blasted Honours from the Dust;
And wide shall spread the Branches of the Just.
Reply'd; “How long shall that wild-wailing Tongue
Taint the pure Air, like some destroying Wind,
And mark a Blemish in the perfect Mind?
Unrighteous in his Sight thy Sons appear'd,
And Vengeance in their Blood her Faulchion smear'd.
But if thy Prayer be pure, thy Breast sincere,
The God of Truth will lend a fav'ring Ear;
Will raise thy blasted Honours from the Dust;
And wide shall spread the Branches of the Just.
The long-liv'd Thoughts of Ages past explore,
Thence taught, the Justice of thy God adore.
For we, vain Beings, on the Surface skim
Of Knowledge, and our Life's a flitting Dream.
As Flags, when fails the genial Water, die,
As falls the Bulrush nodding from on high,
The Cobweb-hope, tho' wove a wond'rous way,
Shall with the groaning Hypocrite decay.
Tho' Sons, tho' num'rous Pow'rs his House defend
With strong Alliance, dire shall be it's End.
His Tree a-while with borrow'd Pride may bloom,
But soon the Lightnings blast, the Tempests gloom.
While chearful Thanks the righteous Tongue employ,
Loud-sounding Praise, and lyre-attemper'd Joy.
If such thy Lips, if such thy Soul sincere,
No Foes shall crush thee, and no Pains shall tear.”
Thence taught, the Justice of thy God adore.
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Of Knowledge, and our Life's a flitting Dream.
As Flags, when fails the genial Water, die,
As falls the Bulrush nodding from on high,
The Cobweb-hope, tho' wove a wond'rous way,
Shall with the groaning Hypocrite decay.
Tho' Sons, tho' num'rous Pow'rs his House defend
With strong Alliance, dire shall be it's End.
His Tree a-while with borrow'd Pride may bloom,
But soon the Lightnings blast, the Tempests gloom.
While chearful Thanks the righteous Tongue employ,
Loud-sounding Praise, and lyre-attemper'd Joy.
If such thy Lips, if such thy Soul sincere,
No Foes shall crush thee, and no Pains shall tear.”
Swift answer then return'd th' Arabian Sire;
While conscious Virtues all his Bosom fire.
“True is thy Lore in Part:—But how shall Man
The Ways, the Works of his Creator scan?
While conscious Virtues all his Bosom fire.
“True is thy Lore in Part:—But how shall Man
The Ways, the Works of his Creator scan?
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Wisdom supreme! shall Dust contend with Thee?
Shall hardy Error blame thy just Decree?
Jehovah's Wrath with Desolation burns;
His red Right-arm the Mountain's Base o'erturns;
Shakes Earth's astonish'd Center from it's Place;
Seals up the Stars, and stops the solar Race.
Unmov'd th' impetuous Wave, the Storm He treads;
The Storm removes; the various Mantle spreads,
Where many-twinkling Lamps benignant shine,
By wond'ring Mortals fondly deem'd divine.
Stretch thy strong Wing, his Wonders still excel:
The Glories of His Essence canst thou tell?
Shall hardy Error blame thy just Decree?
Jehovah's Wrath with Desolation burns;
His red Right-arm the Mountain's Base o'erturns;
Shakes Earth's astonish'd Center from it's Place;
Seals up the Stars, and stops the solar Race.
Unmov'd th' impetuous Wave, the Storm He treads;
The Storm removes; the various Mantle spreads,
Where many-twinkling Lamps benignant shine,
By wond'ring Mortals fondly deem'd divine.
Stretch thy strong Wing, his Wonders still excel:
The Glories of His Essence canst thou tell?
Unbounded Spirit, which pervad'st the whole!
The whole perceives not thy pervading Soul.
Angelic Pow'rs Thy forming Word creates,
Angelic Pow'rs Thy Word annihilates.
How then shall Job, a Worm, a Wretch so low,
The deep Intentions of thy Counsels know,
Or dare by reas'ning Pride thy Mercy to forego?
The whole perceives not thy pervading Soul.
Angelic Pow'rs Thy forming Word creates,
Angelic Pow'rs Thy Word annihilates.
How then shall Job, a Worm, a Wretch so low,
The deep Intentions of thy Counsels know,
Or dare by reas'ning Pride thy Mercy to forego?
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Tho' sinless were my Soul, all-righteous God!
I'd not impeach the Justice of thy Rod;
Tho' kind thy Pow'r to most, severe to me,
Tost in the Tempest of Affliction's Sea.
Low bends my Soul before that glorious Pow'r,
Nor dares to murmur in this dreadful Hour.
To boast Perfection should my Folly rise,
Lo, Conscience marks with Guilt the vain Emprise.
I'd not impeach the Justice of thy Rod;
Tho' kind thy Pow'r to most, severe to me,
Tost in the Tempest of Affliction's Sea.
Low bends my Soul before that glorious Pow'r,
Nor dares to murmur in this dreadful Hour.
To boast Perfection should my Folly rise,
Lo, Conscience marks with Guilt the vain Emprise.
Yet oh! permit this bleeding Wretch to say,
Thy Darts the Righteous and the Wicked slay.
If Plague or Famine dire their Terrors spread,
Shall not the Just their furious Ravage dread?
In Robes of Wealth behold the Villain go,
And Treasures to the worthless Ruler flow!
Meanwhile from Me departs the peaceful Day,
As hastes yon vig'rous Eagle to her Prey,
And leaves no Traces of her airy Way.
Seek I some Respite from consuming Care?
Or would I break the Weapons of Despair?
Strait to these Eyes appear a ghastly Train,
Loss, Grief, Disease, the Family of Pain.
In vain to hope Deliv'rance I begin,
My utmost Efforts purge not all my Sin.
Oh that some Mediator's gentler Form
Would, pitying, skreen me from the growing Storm!
My Faults would expiate, my Failings hide,
And these poor tott'ring Steps to Glory guide!
Thy Darts the Righteous and the Wicked slay.
If Plague or Famine dire their Terrors spread,
Shall not the Just their furious Ravage dread?
In Robes of Wealth behold the Villain go,
And Treasures to the worthless Ruler flow!
Meanwhile from Me departs the peaceful Day,
As hastes yon vig'rous Eagle to her Prey,
And leaves no Traces of her airy Way.
Seek I some Respite from consuming Care?
Or would I break the Weapons of Despair?
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Loss, Grief, Disease, the Family of Pain.
In vain to hope Deliv'rance I begin,
My utmost Efforts purge not all my Sin.
Oh that some Mediator's gentler Form
Would, pitying, skreen me from the growing Storm!
My Faults would expiate, my Failings hide,
And these poor tott'ring Steps to Glory guide!
O spare, my God! some lenient Grace extend!
Oh let me to the Grave in Peace descend!
Oh let me to the Grave in Peace descend!
Some Wealth, some Pow'r, some Fame the Bad may find,
But to their Crimes can Equity be kind?
To skreen Demerit does thy Greatness know,
Like some vain Image of thy Pow'r, below?
No; the Distrest, unpitied and forlorn
Thy gracious Eye shall not regard with Scorn.
But should'st thou here no flagrant Crime behold,
Are Slips, are Errors in thy Book enroll'd?
Thy heav'nly Breath inform'd this wond'rous Clay,
Untimely shall Disease thy Servant slay?
Grant me some short Reprieve, some Pause of Woe,
While Faith prepares to meet the heaviest Blow.
But to their Crimes can Equity be kind?
To skreen Demerit does thy Greatness know,
Like some vain Image of thy Pow'r, below?
No; the Distrest, unpitied and forlorn
Thy gracious Eye shall not regard with Scorn.
But should'st thou here no flagrant Crime behold,
Are Slips, are Errors in thy Book enroll'd?
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Untimely shall Disease thy Servant slay?
Grant me some short Reprieve, some Pause of Woe,
While Faith prepares to meet the heaviest Blow.
'Twas from the Pressure of imcumbent Pain
I wish'd to fly, to break Affliction's Chain;
That like some Birth abortive mine had been,
Lock'd in the Grave, no Face of Sorrow seen;
In Hades lock'd, where airy Shadows move,
Brood o'er the grateful Glooms, or sadly-pensive rove.”
I wish'd to fly, to break Affliction's Chain;
That like some Birth abortive mine had been,
Lock'd in the Grave, no Face of Sorrow seen;
In Hades lock'd, where airy Shadows move,
Brood o'er the grateful Glooms, or sadly-pensive rove.”
While the lorn Patriarch thus his Woes express'd,
Indignant Passions glow'd in Zophar's Breast,
And thus he spoke:—“Shall Cataracts affright?
Shall Rage of Words bear down the Face of Right?
Where did this Son of Scorn his Speech begin?
“Pure are my Words, and clear my Soul from Sin.”
Ah! would the God of Heav'n his Lips unseal,
And the deep Lore of Truths divine reveal,
Then trembling Guilt and blushing Shame would find,
Far from unrighteous Anger, Heav'n is kind.
Can the strong Pinions of thy daring Soul
Pierce the blest Realms above the starry Pole?
What Tongue the Wonders of his Essence tells,
Who, there enthron'd, supreme in Glory dwells?
Nor only sits supreme in Glory there,
Unbounded, unexplor'd, he fills each nether Sphere.
If Nature's Frame dissolve at his Command,
Can all created Pow'r oppose his Hand?
The gleamy Lightning of his Eye pervades
The close Retreats of Sin, the dusky Shades.
Indignant Passions glow'd in Zophar's Breast,
And thus he spoke:—“Shall Cataracts affright?
Shall Rage of Words bear down the Face of Right?
Where did this Son of Scorn his Speech begin?
“Pure are my Words, and clear my Soul from Sin.”
Ah! would the God of Heav'n his Lips unseal,
And the deep Lore of Truths divine reveal,
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Far from unrighteous Anger, Heav'n is kind.
Can the strong Pinions of thy daring Soul
Pierce the blest Realms above the starry Pole?
What Tongue the Wonders of his Essence tells,
Who, there enthron'd, supreme in Glory dwells?
Nor only sits supreme in Glory there,
Unbounded, unexplor'd, he fills each nether Sphere.
If Nature's Frame dissolve at his Command,
Can all created Pow'r oppose his Hand?
The gleamy Lightning of his Eye pervades
The close Retreats of Sin, the dusky Shades.
Boast not thyself unerring Wisdom's Child,
Since like the Zebra born, untam'd and wild:
But in the Robes of Truth thy Heart array,
If Sin infests thee, put it far away;
Then shall thy prosp'ring Pray'r ascend above,
On Wings of stedfast Faith and fearless Love.
Like Summer-floods thy Mis'ry then shall fleet,
And Noon-day Glories shall thine Ev'ning greet:
Gay Hope shall smiling on her Anchor rest,
And the soft Plumes of Peace brood o'er thy Breast.
But Sin shall agonize at ev'ry Breath,
Each Thought be Anguish, and each Hope be Death.”
Since like the Zebra born, untam'd and wild:
But in the Robes of Truth thy Heart array,
If Sin infests thee, put it far away;
Then shall thy prosp'ring Pray'r ascend above,
On Wings of stedfast Faith and fearless Love.
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And Noon-day Glories shall thine Ev'ning greet:
Gay Hope shall smiling on her Anchor rest,
And the soft Plumes of Peace brood o'er thy Breast.
But Sin shall agonize at ev'ry Breath,
Each Thought be Anguish, and each Hope be Death.”
Then Job reply'd: “No doubt but ye are wise,
And when ye fall, the Soul of Wisdom dies.
But is my humbler Mind a fruitless Field,
While yours of Scorn exub'rant Harvests yield?
Lo Virtue's Lamp, which you, my Friends, upbraid,
Prepar'd t'illumine Life's uncertain Shade!
And when ye fall, the Soul of Wisdom dies.
But is my humbler Mind a fruitless Field,
While yours of Scorn exub'rant Harvests yield?
Lo Virtue's Lamp, which you, my Friends, upbraid,
Prepar'd t'illumine Life's uncertain Shade!
Does ready Vengeance still th' Unjust attend?
See to their Pit unwary Worth descend!
See to their Pit unwary Worth descend!
23
If you extol that Energy divine,
Whose Pow'rs creative and destructive shine,
The Tenants of the Earth, the Seas, the Air,
The same resistless Pow'rs of God declare.
Whose Pow'rs creative and destructive shine,
The Tenants of the Earth, the Seas, the Air,
The same resistless Pow'rs of God declare.
Ancient of Days! since Wisdom dwells in Thee,
Against thy Light shall Darkness boast to see?
When thou hast broke, shall human Art repair?
To quit thy Bonds shall human Courage dare?
Thy potent Word the genial Waters dries;
Thy Word pours rushing Torrents from the Skies.
Alike to Thee is known the Villain's Art,
And the plain Purpose of an honest Heart.
Thy secret Counsels blast the Brave, the Wise,
Unravel and defeat their bold Emprise;
Make the vain Great superior Greatness know,
And cloath ev'n Monarchs with the Weeds of Woe;
Expose their Sons to Scorn, a captive Train,
Or free them, vanquish'd, from the servile Chain;
Beat down the Nations with the rapid Storm,
Yet soon restore reviving Vict'ry's Form:
While Princes wander in the dreary Waste,
Their Honours wither'd, and their Pride defac'd.
Against thy Light shall Darkness boast to see?
When thou hast broke, shall human Art repair?
To quit thy Bonds shall human Courage dare?
Thy potent Word the genial Waters dries;
Thy Word pours rushing Torrents from the Skies.
Alike to Thee is known the Villain's Art,
And the plain Purpose of an honest Heart.
Thy secret Counsels blast the Brave, the Wise,
Unravel and defeat their bold Emprise;
Make the vain Great superior Greatness know,
And cloath ev'n Monarchs with the Weeds of Woe;
Expose their Sons to Scorn, a captive Train,
Or free them, vanquish'd, from the servile Chain;
24
Yet soon restore reviving Vict'ry's Form:
While Princes wander in the dreary Waste,
Their Honours wither'd, and their Pride defac'd.
These striking Truths I feel, these Truths I know;
Why should I rev'rence your presuming Show?
The Balms of God my troubled Soul requires,
Ye false Physicians, not your Lore desires.
Let the vain Strife of Words in Silence rest,
While Job attends to gracious Heav'n's Behest.
Does God demand the tinsel-gilded Tale?
Or will your partial Speech for Him avail?
No: His pure Eyes your Error will explore,
And teach your Lips to sooth the Great no more.
His mighty Terrors shake; your Mem'ry flies,
Like Ashes scatter'd when the Whirlwinds rise.
Why should I rev'rence your presuming Show?
The Balms of God my troubled Soul requires,
Ye false Physicians, not your Lore desires.
Let the vain Strife of Words in Silence rest,
While Job attends to gracious Heav'n's Behest.
Does God demand the tinsel-gilded Tale?
Or will your partial Speech for Him avail?
No: His pure Eyes your Error will explore,
And teach your Lips to sooth the Great no more.
His mighty Terrors shake; your Mem'ry flies,
Like Ashes scatter'd when the Whirlwinds rise.
I fear not Death, that terror-armed Foe,
To mount the Breach my daring Spirits go.
Thee, Heav'n, I praise, ev'n in the fatal Hour,
Yet let me these defensive Wailings pour.
Thy awful Eye no Hypocrite can bear,
But with the Just I bless thy saving Care.
E'er long, perhaps, these doubting Friends shall see
My Soul unveil'd in humble Hope to Thee.
Do thou, my God, in milder Glory stand,
Let no dread Gleam of Vengeance arm thy Hand.
Why dost Thou view me with terrific Eye,
Drive the fall'n Leaf, or blast the Stubble dry?
Dost Thou each Slip of thoughtless Youth record,
And for Defects no pard'ning Grace afford?
O Father, watch not ev'ry erring Way,
Nor hope Perfection in a Work of Clay!
To mount the Breach my daring Spirits go.
25
Yet let me these defensive Wailings pour.
Thy awful Eye no Hypocrite can bear,
But with the Just I bless thy saving Care.
E'er long, perhaps, these doubting Friends shall see
My Soul unveil'd in humble Hope to Thee.
Do thou, my God, in milder Glory stand,
Let no dread Gleam of Vengeance arm thy Hand.
Why dost Thou view me with terrific Eye,
Drive the fall'n Leaf, or blast the Stubble dry?
Dost Thou each Slip of thoughtless Youth record,
And for Defects no pard'ning Grace afford?
O Father, watch not ev'ry erring Way,
Nor hope Perfection in a Work of Clay!
Such is the Being, Woman-born, so vain;
Few are his Years, and character'd with Pain.
As flits the Shade, or as the Flow'r decays,
So fades his Bloom, so empty are his Days.
Dost Thou correct the circling Insect's Flight?
Dost Thou my Soul with Judgment's Voice affright?
Who draws the Water clear from muddy Springs?
Who the pure Produce from Corruption brings?
Since fixt by Thee the Bounds that ne'er are past,
Be Life's short Scenes unclouded while they last!
Since doom'd the Hireling's dated Hour to live,
The Hireling's Hope and humble Patience give!
Few are his Years, and character'd with Pain.
As flits the Shade, or as the Flow'r decays,
So fades his Bloom, so empty are his Days.
26
Dost Thou my Soul with Judgment's Voice affright?
Who draws the Water clear from muddy Springs?
Who the pure Produce from Corruption brings?
Since fixt by Thee the Bounds that ne'er are past,
Be Life's short Scenes unclouded while they last!
Since doom'd the Hireling's dated Hour to live,
The Hireling's Hope and humble Patience give!
Shorn of their Honours, Trees will sprout again,
And with fresh Branches grace the smiling Plain:
Cut down the Stem, but spare the genial Root,
The Verdures of another Stem shall shoot.
But Man, this lower World's unneeded Boast,
Drops into Death, and all his Mem'ry's lost.
Like sudden Streams from swift-descending Show'rs,
Sunk in Earth's Bosom are his vital Pow'rs;
Nor, thence emerging, shall those Pow'rs return,
'Till yon fair Heav'ns in Dissolution burn.
And with fresh Branches grace the smiling Plain:
Cut down the Stem, but spare the genial Root,
The Verdures of another Stem shall shoot.
But Man, this lower World's unneeded Boast,
Drops into Death, and all his Mem'ry's lost.
Like sudden Streams from swift-descending Show'rs,
Sunk in Earth's Bosom are his vital Pow'rs;
Nor, thence emerging, shall those Pow'rs return,
'Till yon fair Heav'ns in Dissolution burn.
27
Oh that Thou would'st the grateful Hour declare,
When Death, long-sought, shall hear my ardent Pray'r!
For this Right-hand shall never strike the Blow,
Nor shall my Soul, uncall'd, to Thy dread Presence go.
At length the blest Discharge, from Thee I find,
And Death's relenting Visage will be kind.
The Rocks remove, the Mountains melt away,
Shall not the cloud-topt Hope of Man decay?
Yes, it decays: His Looks all chang'd and pale
Proclaim the Time when ev'ry Pow'r shall fail.
Anxious around his pensive Eyes he turns,
And vanquish'd Hope in helpless Silence mourns:
Swift comes the Hour when he no more shall know
What Lot betides his much-lov'd Sons below.”
When Death, long-sought, shall hear my ardent Pray'r!
For this Right-hand shall never strike the Blow,
Nor shall my Soul, uncall'd, to Thy dread Presence go.
At length the blest Discharge, from Thee I find,
And Death's relenting Visage will be kind.
The Rocks remove, the Mountains melt away,
Shall not the cloud-topt Hope of Man decay?
Yes, it decays: His Looks all chang'd and pale
Proclaim the Time when ev'ry Pow'r shall fail.
Anxious around his pensive Eyes he turns,
And vanquish'd Hope in helpless Silence mourns:
Swift comes the Hour when he no more shall know
What Lot betides his much-lov'd Sons below.”
Of Job xii. 5. there are various Opinions. As it stands in our Translation, it is, in my Opinion, almost unintelligible. But there it is transposed.—In the Hebrew it will read thus, “A Lamp despised in the Thought of the Careless, is ready for the “Failings of the Foot.” The most obvious Sense is, He who is a Light to instruct the Indolent, though despised by them, is prepared against the several Accidents of Life. The Chaldee Paraphrast has translated it Nacon lemo[Chaldean character]ade ragel, nacon leharpathe zimna, paratus ad accidentia, vel infortunia, temporis.—Prov. xix. 29. Naconu calletzim, prepared for Scorners, is a parallel Syntax to nacon lemo[Chaldean character]adim, prepared for Changes.
29
BOOK II.
Thus
Teman's Prince rejoin'd: “Should Wisdom's Son
To the wild Moans of thoughtless Folly run?
Say, should his Years advance the Lore unsound,
And on a Pit conceal'd so rashly bound?
Like thee, reject the Voice of filial Fear,
And unresign'd before his God appear?
Wast Thou produc'd the Pattern of Mankind?
Or didst thou with the Hills Existence find?
Know'st thou the Secrets of yon starry Frame?
Dost thou alone the Palm of Wisdom claim?
Before thy Pride we lisping Infants seem,
But sure thy vaunted Pow'rs are all a Dream.
Does not long Age her silver Honours spread
With us on many a venerable Head?
To the wild Moans of thoughtless Folly run?
Say, should his Years advance the Lore unsound,
And on a Pit conceal'd so rashly bound?
Like thee, reject the Voice of filial Fear,
And unresign'd before his God appear?
Wast Thou produc'd the Pattern of Mankind?
Or didst thou with the Hills Existence find?
30
Dost thou alone the Palm of Wisdom claim?
Before thy Pride we lisping Infants seem,
But sure thy vaunted Pow'rs are all a Dream.
Does not long Age her silver Honours spread
With us on many a venerable Head?
Dost thou the chast'ning Hand of God despise?
Or does thy Soul in vain Resistance rise?
Error He found ev'n in the heav'nly Host,
Th' angelic Train no god-like Glory boast:
Shall spotless Virtue then in Man reside,
Borne, like a Wreck, on Passion's lawless Tide?
Or does thy Soul in vain Resistance rise?
Error He found ev'n in the heav'nly Host,
Th' angelic Train no god-like Glory boast:
Shall spotless Virtue then in Man reside,
Borne, like a Wreck, on Passion's lawless Tide?
Attentive now the Truth of Ages hear,
Which I, with all our hoary Sires, revere;
Nay, with the first of Men, to whom was giv'n
Each Region stretch'd beneath the Arch of Heav'n.
In Pangs of Woe the Wicked pass their Days,
And Vengeance soon the curst Oppressor slays.
In Life the Sound of Conscience stuns his Ears,
And the dark Brow of gloomy Night he fears,
When the fierce Fires of prowling Furies burn,
From whose dire Hands he hopes not to return.
His shudd'ring Soul the Voice of Terror calls;
So Armies tremble when their Leader falls.
How should fair Peace e'er visit his Abode,
Who rushes headlong on the Sword of God?
Spite of the royal Dish, the spicy Bowl,
The Keenness of that Sword shall pierce his Soul.
Stript of the Treasures which his Folly fed,
In Desarts he shall hide his guilty Head.
His boasted Strength, his Offspring shall decline,
As falls the Fruitage from the blasted Vine.
The vile Dissembler, thus of Hope forlorn,
The Friend of Bribes, shall die the Public Scorn.
Which I, with all our hoary Sires, revere;
Nay, with the first of Men, to whom was giv'n
Each Region stretch'd beneath the Arch of Heav'n.
In Pangs of Woe the Wicked pass their Days,
And Vengeance soon the curst Oppressor slays.
31
And the dark Brow of gloomy Night he fears,
When the fierce Fires of prowling Furies burn,
From whose dire Hands he hopes not to return.
His shudd'ring Soul the Voice of Terror calls;
So Armies tremble when their Leader falls.
How should fair Peace e'er visit his Abode,
Who rushes headlong on the Sword of God?
Spite of the royal Dish, the spicy Bowl,
The Keenness of that Sword shall pierce his Soul.
Stript of the Treasures which his Folly fed,
In Desarts he shall hide his guilty Head.
His boasted Strength, his Offspring shall decline,
As falls the Fruitage from the blasted Vine.
The vile Dissembler, thus of Hope forlorn,
The Friend of Bribes, shall die the Public Scorn.
Trust then in Vanity, ye Blind, no more,
But, taught of Pain, the Truth of Heav'n adore.”
But, taught of Pain, the Truth of Heav'n adore.”
32
Provok'd, the suff'ring Prince this Answer gave:
“Is this the Solace which my Mis'ries crave?
Say, could ye blast the Flow'r of Self-applause,
Would that Exploit remove my frowning Woes?
Were your unhappy Breasts with Anguish torn,
I too could push you on the sharpest Thorn:
But sure with me my Friends would Pity find,
And ev'ry Wound her gentle Hand would bind.
What tho' I mourn? Can Sighs remove my Grief?
Silence ye teach—Will Silence bring Relief?
“Is this the Solace which my Mis'ries crave?
Say, could ye blast the Flow'r of Self-applause,
Would that Exploit remove my frowning Woes?
Were your unhappy Breasts with Anguish torn,
I too could push you on the sharpest Thorn:
But sure with me my Friends would Pity find,
And ev'ry Wound her gentle Hand would bind.
What tho' I mourn? Can Sighs remove my Grief?
Silence ye teach—Will Silence bring Relief?
O righteous Father! all my Strength is broke;
This shatter'd Frame now feels the deadly Stroke.
Untimely Wrinkles plow my shrivell'd Face;
I fight with lean Disease and dire Disgrace.
Pale Rancor's Blade, and Scorn's deep-piercing Dart
Plunge with sharp Anguish in my wounded Heart.
To Rapine's Hand my Substance falls a Prey;
Relentless Furies my lov'd Offspring slay.
Myself the Mark of poison'd Arrows stand,
And see Destruction stretch her Giant-hand.
With dreadful Darkness are my Limbs array'd;
And on my tear-worn Cheek broods Death's dim Shade.
Yet was I ne'er entic'd by Pleasure's Lure;
Just were my Wishes, and my Prayer was pure.
O Earth, declare my Suff'rings to thy Lord!
And let the Rolls of Heav'n my Wrongs record!
My Friends deride the Pressure of my Woe:
To Thee, my God, to Thee my Sorrows flow.
Oh with Acceptance may this Voice ascend!
Be potent as the Suit of Friend to Freind!
This shatter'd Frame now feels the deadly Stroke.
Untimely Wrinkles plow my shrivell'd Face;
I fight with lean Disease and dire Disgrace.
Pale Rancor's Blade, and Scorn's deep-piercing Dart
Plunge with sharp Anguish in my wounded Heart.
To Rapine's Hand my Substance falls a Prey;
Relentless Furies my lov'd Offspring slay.
33
And see Destruction stretch her Giant-hand.
With dreadful Darkness are my Limbs array'd;
And on my tear-worn Cheek broods Death's dim Shade.
Yet was I ne'er entic'd by Pleasure's Lure;
Just were my Wishes, and my Prayer was pure.
O Earth, declare my Suff'rings to thy Lord!
And let the Rolls of Heav'n my Wrongs record!
My Friends deride the Pressure of my Woe:
To Thee, my God, to Thee my Sorrows flow.
Oh with Acceptance may this Voice ascend!
Be potent as the Suit of Friend to Freind!
Dim burns the Lamp of Life; this Breast heaves slow;
My Soul shall soon the last sad Journey go.
Ill does the cutting Voice of Scorn prepare
This bleeding Breast that Weight of Woes to bear.
Oh that Omniscience would my Conduct try,
Or send some blest Vicegerent from on High!
If Flatt'ry on your House would Vengeance pour,
Shall this rude Railing bring the peaceful Hour?
No more disgrace the sacred Name of Friend,
But to these Laws of social Love attend:
Aid no proud Menace of insulting Foes,
Nor to Derision keen the Wretch expose.
The Good shall tremble at your mean Distrust,
When Heav'n's all-seeing Eye declares me Just.
From Strength to Strength the pure of Heart shall go,
But Shame shall sink the false Accusers low:
Low as the Son of Pain they now despise,
Expung'd and ras'd whose ev'ry Purpose lies;
Whose sublunary Hopes shall soon descend
To Dust, and with their mould'ring Subject end:
When Death, fell-frowning, looks him into Clay,
And kindred Reptiles riot on their Prey.”
My Soul shall soon the last sad Journey go.
Ill does the cutting Voice of Scorn prepare
This bleeding Breast that Weight of Woes to bear.
Oh that Omniscience would my Conduct try,
Or send some blest Vicegerent from on High!
34
Shall this rude Railing bring the peaceful Hour?
No more disgrace the sacred Name of Friend,
But to these Laws of social Love attend:
Aid no proud Menace of insulting Foes,
Nor to Derision keen the Wretch expose.
The Good shall tremble at your mean Distrust,
When Heav'n's all-seeing Eye declares me Just.
From Strength to Strength the pure of Heart shall go,
But Shame shall sink the false Accusers low:
Low as the Son of Pain they now despise,
Expung'd and ras'd whose ev'ry Purpose lies;
Whose sublunary Hopes shall soon descend
To Dust, and with their mould'ring Subject end:
When Death, fell-frowning, looks him into Clay,
And kindred Reptiles riot on their Prey.”
Then Bildad said: “With mild Attention hear:
No more thy Breast with furious Passions tear.
The rapid Course of empty Speeches stay.
Why are We thought devoid of Reason's Ray?
Shall the tall Mountain from it's Base be hurl'd?
For Thee shall Desolation smite the World?
No more thy Breast with furious Passions tear.
35
Why are We thought devoid of Reason's Ray?
Shall the tall Mountain from it's Base be hurl'd?
For Thee shall Desolation smite the World?
Here then we hold: The lawless Caitiff's Blaze
A-while may crackle loud, but soon decays:
And then shall black Despair her Pinions spread
With baleful Influence o'er his trembling Head.
Lo, Heav'n shall make his secret Counsels bare,
And drive him headlong on his mazy Snare.
High shall grim Terror lift his Sabre keen,
And fainting Famine totter o'er the Scene:
Destruction fell shall watch the fatal Hour;
Death's eldest-born his Vitals shall devour.
This Train of Furies shall his Dwelling know,
And in fierce Flames of vengeful Sulphur glow.
The Root shall perish, and the Branch shall die,
No Name, no Son his scatter'd Race supply.
Thus swift his visionary Hopes decay,
And After-times shall tremble at his Day.”
A-while may crackle loud, but soon decays:
And then shall black Despair her Pinions spread
With baleful Influence o'er his trembling Head.
Lo, Heav'n shall make his secret Counsels bare,
And drive him headlong on his mazy Snare.
High shall grim Terror lift his Sabre keen,
And fainting Famine totter o'er the Scene:
Destruction fell shall watch the fatal Hour;
Death's eldest-born his Vitals shall devour.
This Train of Furies shall his Dwelling know,
And in fierce Flames of vengeful Sulphur glow.
The Root shall perish, and the Branch shall die,
No Name, no Son his scatter'd Race supply.
36
And After-times shall tremble at his Day.”
“How long, ye Friends, shall sharp Invective try
The last Resource of Sorrow to destroy?
The Patriarch said.—Be these Reproaches true,
Yet to myself I err'd, not injur'd you.
Need ye add Sharpness to the Sword Divine,
Or with Omnipotence in humbling join?
To Rocks, to Hills, to Friends I pour my Woe—
Nor Rocks, nor Hills, nor Friends Compassion show.
Lo, angry Heav'n hath pull'd my Glories down,
And from these Temples torn the princely Crown.
As at some furious Dragon speeds the Dart,
And the swift Vengeance rankles in this Heart.
Strong Bands, by Heav'n impell'd, my House surround:
Fast fly my Friends, astonish'd at each Wound.
Estrang'd my Brethren like Infection shun
The Fortune low deprest, the Soul undone.
Slaves of my Wealth desert the joyless Hour,
Attracted by the Glare of other Pow'r.
My Wife's imperious Words my Wrongs upbraid,
By each slain Son tho' I besought her Aid.
Nay, each young Minion, Imitation's Child,
Hiss'd at my Moan, or at my Mis'ries smil'd:
Forbidding Mis'ries of abhorr'd Disease,
That each untender Eye with cold Aversion seize.
Ye Friends that yet remain, if Friends ye be,
This Wretch with Pity—Oh! with Pity see!
But if your ruthless Souls no Tear afford,
I fly, I seek my ever-gracious Lord.
The last Resource of Sorrow to destroy?
The Patriarch said.—Be these Reproaches true,
Yet to myself I err'd, not injur'd you.
Need ye add Sharpness to the Sword Divine,
Or with Omnipotence in humbling join?
To Rocks, to Hills, to Friends I pour my Woe—
Nor Rocks, nor Hills, nor Friends Compassion show.
Lo, angry Heav'n hath pull'd my Glories down,
And from these Temples torn the princely Crown.
As at some furious Dragon speeds the Dart,
And the swift Vengeance rankles in this Heart.
Strong Bands, by Heav'n impell'd, my House surround:
Fast fly my Friends, astonish'd at each Wound.
Estrang'd my Brethren like Infection shun
The Fortune low deprest, the Soul undone.
37
Attracted by the Glare of other Pow'r.
My Wife's imperious Words my Wrongs upbraid,
By each slain Son tho' I besought her Aid.
Nay, each young Minion, Imitation's Child,
Hiss'd at my Moan, or at my Mis'ries smil'd:
Forbidding Mis'ries of abhorr'd Disease,
That each untender Eye with cold Aversion seize.
Ye Friends that yet remain, if Friends ye be,
This Wretch with Pity—Oh! with Pity see!
But if your ruthless Souls no Tear afford,
I fly, I seek my ever-gracious Lord.
Oh that some Pen of Steel these Words would grave
On yon tall Rock that bounds the threatning Wave!
This Prophecy, which, Heav'n-illum'd, I pour,
Shall reach the hoary World's declining Hour.
—My blest Redeemer lives—His Beams divine
On Earth new-form'd in latter Days shall shine.
Tho' Worms destroy this animated Clod,
Again embodied, I shall see my God.
An Eye, acknowledg'd mine, the King shall view
To each just Hope of this his Servant true.—
On yon tall Rock that bounds the threatning Wave!
This Prophecy, which, Heav'n-illum'd, I pour,
Shall reach the hoary World's declining Hour.
—My blest Redeemer lives—His Beams divine
On Earth new-form'd in latter Days shall shine.
38
Again embodied, I shall see my God.
An Eye, acknowledg'd mine, the King shall view
To each just Hope of this his Servant true.—
O Friends, with Fear behold the last dread Day,
When the bar'd Heart shall ev'ry Thought display.”
When the bar'd Heart shall ev'ry Thought display.”
Stung with Resentment and the conscious Pride
Of Knowledge, fiery Zophar thus replied:
“Know'st thou not this, that in th' historic Page
It stands deliver'd down from Age to Age,
Swift Wrath th' exulting Hypocrite destroys;
Short are his Triumphs, short the Villain's Joys.
Tho' to the Skies his tow'ring Head may tend,
Soon shall he to the Dust of Death descend.
Sudden he feels the Heav'n-directed Storm;
In vain we seek the baseless Vision's Form.
The Dream departs; the Phantom disappears;
He leaves his Offspring whelm'd in anxious Fears.
His trembling Sons shall crouch before the Poor,
Refund the Fruits of Guile, the Pledge restore.
Of Knowledge, fiery Zophar thus replied:
“Know'st thou not this, that in th' historic Page
It stands deliver'd down from Age to Age,
Swift Wrath th' exulting Hypocrite destroys;
Short are his Triumphs, short the Villain's Joys.
Tho' to the Skies his tow'ring Head may tend,
Soon shall he to the Dust of Death descend.
Sudden he feels the Heav'n-directed Storm;
In vain we seek the baseless Vision's Form.
The Dream departs; the Phantom disappears;
He leaves his Offspring whelm'd in anxious Fears.
39
Refund the Fruits of Guile, the Pledge restore.
The Sin of Youth, that charm'd his vicious Taste,
The darling Passion which his Soul embrac'd,
To Gall of Asps shall in his Bowels turn,
And, rankling deep, his inmost Marrow burn.
Indignant Nature shall no more be kind;
His parching Thirst no lenient Stream shall find.
The darling Passion which his Soul embrac'd,
To Gall of Asps shall in his Bowels turn,
And, rankling deep, his inmost Marrow burn.
Indignant Nature shall no more be kind;
His parching Thirst no lenient Stream shall find.
This was the Man of Pride, whose Tyrant Pow'r
Rul'd with a Rod of Steel the short-liv'd Hour;
Crush'd with unpitying Rage the friendless Soul,
That Floods of Wealth might in his Channel roll.
Sure the foul Flood with bitter Streams shall flow,
To fill th' envenom'd Cup of ceaseless Woe.
Their unabating Wrath the Heav'ns shall rain,
And he shall sink amid the Racks of Pain.
High-brandish'd, Horror's Sword shall plunge him down,
And Realms of Night the kindred Spirit own.
Dire Flames shall then the Streams of Wealth exhale,
And with the wasting Store his Seed shall fail.”
Rul'd with a Rod of Steel the short-liv'd Hour;
Crush'd with unpitying Rage the friendless Soul,
That Floods of Wealth might in his Channel roll.
Sure the foul Flood with bitter Streams shall flow,
To fill th' envenom'd Cup of ceaseless Woe.
Their unabating Wrath the Heav'ns shall rain,
And he shall sink amid the Racks of Pain.
High-brandish'd, Horror's Sword shall plunge him down,
And Realms of Night the kindred Spirit own.
40
And with the wasting Store his Seed shall fail.”
The Suff'rer thus: “The Voice of Truth attend,
Then pour redoubled Mock'ry on your Friend.
Hope I supporting Solace from Mankind,
Rich Fruit from Buds that feel the blighting Wind?
Impartial, mark!—appall'd, let Silence hear!
Ev'n at the Thought grim Terror's Gripe I fear.
Why grows the impious Mortal old in Pow'r?
Why blooms his Offspring like the fairest Flow'r?
He pays no Homage to the Pow'r Divine,
Yet no Misfortunes make the Wretch repine.
His fast-increasing Flock gay Plenty feeds;
His Children dance along the purple Meads;
In the glad Sounds of mingled Lyres rejoice,
And swell the Music with the Charms of Voice.
Gay pass their Hours in Pleasure's rosy Train,
Not gloom'd by Sorrow, and not rack'd with Pain.
Hence to the Pow'r Supreme they madly say,
Do We desire the Knowledge of Thy Way?
Far hence, ye anxious Thoughts of Judgment, fly;
Hence, future Hopes: We liv'd, and we shall die.
Yet shall those Sorrows which they now despise,
In future Worlds with dread Destruction rise.
Then pour redoubled Mock'ry on your Friend.
Hope I supporting Solace from Mankind,
Rich Fruit from Buds that feel the blighting Wind?
Impartial, mark!—appall'd, let Silence hear!
Ev'n at the Thought grim Terror's Gripe I fear.
Why grows the impious Mortal old in Pow'r?
Why blooms his Offspring like the fairest Flow'r?
He pays no Homage to the Pow'r Divine,
Yet no Misfortunes make the Wretch repine.
His fast-increasing Flock gay Plenty feeds;
His Children dance along the purple Meads;
In the glad Sounds of mingled Lyres rejoice,
And swell the Music with the Charms of Voice.
Gay pass their Hours in Pleasure's rosy Train,
Not gloom'd by Sorrow, and not rack'd with Pain.
41
Do We desire the Knowledge of Thy Way?
Far hence, ye anxious Thoughts of Judgment, fly;
Hence, future Hopes: We liv'd, and we shall die.
Yet shall those Sorrows which they now despise,
In future Worlds with dread Destruction rise.
Nay, midst the Changes of this Scene, we find
Abandon'd Guilt in Ruin's Arms reclin'd;
See the result of Vice in tort'ring Pain,
Her tow'ring Hopes low-plunging down again;
Behold the Impious in each Purpose crost,
And the gay Hopes of golden Pleasure lost.
Abandon'd Guilt in Ruin's Arms reclin'd;
See the result of Vice in tort'ring Pain,
Her tow'ring Hopes low-plunging down again;
Behold the Impious in each Purpose crost,
And the gay Hopes of golden Pleasure lost.
Yet who this various Conduct shall arraign
In Him who judges ev'n th' Angelic Train?
Tho' these in Peace serenely easy die,
And those in Anguish heave the last sad Sigh.
In Him who judges ev'n th' Angelic Train?
Tho' these in Peace serenely easy die,
And those in Anguish heave the last sad Sigh.
42
Me, who have felt Affliction's keenest Dart,
Your partial Thoughts pronounce impure of Heart.
Where shines the wicked Prince? your Censures say:
Has Wrath Celestial chang'd his bright Array?
Your partial Thoughts pronounce impure of Heart.
Where shines the wicked Prince? your Censures say:
Has Wrath Celestial chang'd his bright Array?
The Man, whose Crimes to count known Numbers fail,
Securely slumbers in the dusty Vale;
Whilst I invoke with unavailing Prayer
Relentless Death to close the Eyes of Care.”
Securely slumbers in the dusty Vale;
Whilst I invoke with unavailing Prayer
Relentless Death to close the Eyes of Care.”
Then answer'd Eliphaz: “Can Profit rise
From Works of Man to Him who rules the Skies?
What Bliss unknown does great Jehovah gain,
If thou to perfect. Virtue's Palm attain?
Will He descend to parley with thy Rage,
Or in Disputes of Right with thee engage?
From Works of Man to Him who rules the Skies?
What Bliss unknown does great Jehovah gain,
If thou to perfect. Virtue's Palm attain?
Will He descend to parley with thy Rage,
Or in Disputes of Right with thee engage?
Didst thou thy Bread to Orphans' Cries impart?
Or have thy Fortunes chear'd the Widow's Heart?
No:—countless are thy Sins, thy Crimes abhorr'd:
The Garment pledg'd thy Av'rice ne'er restor'd.
Weak Thirst has ne'er thy flowing Fountains blest,
Nor Hunger fed, the warm Return exprest.
While false Regard prepar'd the spicy Bowl
For those that in luxurious Plenty roll.
Hence Snares unseen are round thy Dwelling spread,
And sudden Horrors smite thy destin'd Head.
Or have thy Fortunes chear'd the Widow's Heart?
43
The Garment pledg'd thy Av'rice ne'er restor'd.
Weak Thirst has ne'er thy flowing Fountains blest,
Nor Hunger fed, the warm Return exprest.
While false Regard prepar'd the spicy Bowl
For those that in luxurious Plenty roll.
Hence Snares unseen are round thy Dwelling spread,
And sudden Horrors smite thy destin'd Head.
Sublime, thou say'st, the God of Nature dwells,
This Region minds not, nor these Reptiles' Cells:
He walks amidst the radiant Forms of Heav'n,
And to this empty Scene no Care is giv'n.
This Region minds not, nor these Reptiles' Cells:
He walks amidst the radiant Forms of Heav'n,
And to this empty Scene no Care is giv'n.
Hast thou forgot how impious Men of old,
Low-sunk, were in th' impetuous Deluge roll'd?
Their Hopes were built upon the flitting Wave,
Swift broke the Surge, and whelm'd them in the Grave.
Behold our Portion, said those long-liv'd Sires;
Our sensual Soul no happier Heav'n desires.—
The Pow'r supreme their genial Store had blest;
Hence on this earthly Scene they fix'd their Rest,
And to their bounteous Maker said, “Depart—
Here centers all our Hope; here grows our Heart.”—
Low-sunk, were in th' impetuous Deluge roll'd?
Their Hopes were built upon the flitting Wave,
Swift broke the Surge, and whelm'd them in the Grave.
Behold our Portion, said those long-liv'd Sires;
Our sensual Soul no happier Heav'n desires.—
44
Hence on this earthly Scene they fix'd their Rest,
And to their bounteous Maker said, “Depart—
Here centers all our Hope; here grows our Heart.”—
Wilt thou, O Job, be like that faithless Seed,
For whom such headlong Vengeance was decreed?
No—By submissive Trust Acceptance gain
With Heav'n, and Peace shall in thy Bosom reign.
With Rev'rence to th' Almighty's Laws return,
And for the Wand'rings of thy Folly mourn.
His Grace shall pardon, and his Aid shall bless,
Heal ev'ry Wound, and ev'ry Wrong redress.
Then happy Gales shall fill thy smiling Stores
With Gold that beam'd on Sun-bright Ophir's Shores.
Then the mild Aspect of thy fav'ring God
Shall pour sweet Sun-shine on thy dark Abode.
Thy Heart inflam'd shall breathe the Vow sincere,
And from the Heav'ns shall Mercy learn to hear.
If stern Affliction stretch her iron Wand
O'er the pale Tribes of this astonish'd Land,
Thy bounteous Hand shall aid, thy fervent Prayer
Prevail with Heav'n the trembling Souls to spare.”
For whom such headlong Vengeance was decreed?
No—By submissive Trust Acceptance gain
With Heav'n, and Peace shall in thy Bosom reign.
With Rev'rence to th' Almighty's Laws return,
And for the Wand'rings of thy Folly mourn.
His Grace shall pardon, and his Aid shall bless,
Heal ev'ry Wound, and ev'ry Wrong redress.
Then happy Gales shall fill thy smiling Stores
With Gold that beam'd on Sun-bright Ophir's Shores.
Then the mild Aspect of thy fav'ring God
Shall pour sweet Sun-shine on thy dark Abode.
Thy Heart inflam'd shall breathe the Vow sincere,
And from the Heav'ns shall Mercy learn to hear.
45
O'er the pale Tribes of this astonish'd Land,
Thy bounteous Hand shall aid, thy fervent Prayer
Prevail with Heav'n the trembling Souls to spare.”
Still hapless Job pursu'd his melting Moan—
Each Stroke outvies the corresponding Groan.
“Oh could I once approach the Throne Divine!
With artless Eloquence my Cause should shine.
The Wretch would hail that long-intreated Hour,
Nor dread Oppression from his glorious Pow'r.
Where'er I turn these long-dejected Eyes,
Unseen his immaterial Essence flies.
Yet must his Grace each suff'ring Son behold,
And from the Furnace bring the equal Gold.
Each Stroke outvies the corresponding Groan.
“Oh could I once approach the Throne Divine!
With artless Eloquence my Cause should shine.
The Wretch would hail that long-intreated Hour,
Nor dread Oppression from his glorious Pow'r.
Where'er I turn these long-dejected Eyes,
Unseen his immaterial Essence flies.
Yet must his Grace each suff'ring Son behold,
And from the Furnace bring the equal Gold.
His Words, the Food of Souls, I valu'd more
Than what declining Nature must restore.
My Voice, my Works did ev'ry Precept praise,
Nor was this Heart enthrall'd in Error's Maze.
Yet Griefs untold my Resignation try,
Who can his Purpose change, his Wrath defy?
Thus by Divine Command Affliction springs,
And thus I mourn before the King of Kings.
Than what declining Nature must restore.
My Voice, my Works did ev'ry Precept praise,
Nor was this Heart enthrall'd in Error's Maze.
46
Who can his Purpose change, his Wrath defy?
Thus by Divine Command Affliction springs,
And thus I mourn before the King of Kings.
Each infant Thought is naked to His Eyes,
Yet Vice still dares, and Villainy defies:
Yet some the Marks of Property remove,
The sacred Stones; and Gain of Rapine love.
To the lorn Blind they point each rugged Way,
And with dire Insult on dark Mis'ry play;
The needy Widow's Substance falls their Prey.
All as she sits neglected and alone,
From the big Heart thus heaves the painful Groan.
—“Ah! whence, my Sons, in silv'ry Streams shall roll
The Flood of Life, nectarious, to the Bowl?
What pitying Hand will reach the needful Bread,
Since the small Means of Culture all are fled?”
Yet Vice still dares, and Villainy defies:
Yet some the Marks of Property remove,
The sacred Stones; and Gain of Rapine love.
To the lorn Blind they point each rugged Way,
And with dire Insult on dark Mis'ry play;
The needy Widow's Substance falls their Prey.
All as she sits neglected and alone,
From the big Heart thus heaves the painful Groan.
—“Ah! whence, my Sons, in silv'ry Streams shall roll
The Flood of Life, nectarious, to the Bowl?
What pitying Hand will reach the needful Bread,
Since the small Means of Culture all are fled?”
47
Mean-while the Sons of Rapine swift proceed,
And stain their Swords with many a murd'rous Deed.
Impetuous as the Zebra's is their Course;
Th' unhappy Merchant feels their dreadful Force;
Spoil'd of his much-lov'd Wealth, his Servants slain,
Himself with Thirst expiring on the Plain.
Some Wretches from th' appalling Carnage fly,
And a more ling'ring Death in rocky Caverns die.
And stain their Swords with many a murd'rous Deed.
Impetuous as the Zebra's is their Course;
Th' unhappy Merchant feels their dreadful Force;
Spoil'd of his much-lov'd Wealth, his Servants slain,
Himself with Thirst expiring on the Plain.
Some Wretches from th' appalling Carnage fly,
And a more ling'ring Death in rocky Caverns die.
Now dark Adult'rers wait the dusky Hour,
And steel unseen to Pleasure's lawless Bow'r.
Thro' the strong Gate, thro' Walls they force their Way,
And Deeds of Darkness curse the rising Day.
And steel unseen to Pleasure's lawless Bow'r.
Thro' the strong Gate, thro' Walls they force their Way,
And Deeds of Darkness curse the rising Day.
Yet these, tho' dire their Crimes, no Vengeance know;
From Life with soft Serenity they go,
As in the Sun-beam silent melts the Snow.”
From Life with soft Serenity they go,
As in the Sun-beam silent melts the Snow.”
The Shuhite then: “That glorious God revere,
With whom Dominion dwells, the Source of Fear.
Sure no complaining Voice is heard on high,
No Murmur 'mid the Myriads of the Sky.
The Moon before His Glory veils her Light,
Nor shine the Stars unspotted in his Sight:
How then shall erring, earth-born Man be pure?
His Works the Search of heav'nly Fire endure?”
With whom Dominion dwells, the Source of Fear.
48
No Murmur 'mid the Myriads of the Sky.
The Moon before His Glory veils her Light,
Nor shine the Stars unspotted in his Sight:
How then shall erring, earth-born Man be pure?
His Works the Search of heav'nly Fire endure?”
But Job return'd: “How has thy trifling Care
Help'd the strong Hand that stretch'd the Fields of Air?
Say, does thy Soul for boundless Knowledge plead?
Thy fav'ring Tongue does perfect Wisdom need?
Help'd the strong Hand that stretch'd the Fields of Air?
Say, does thy Soul for boundless Knowledge plead?
Thy fav'ring Tongue does perfect Wisdom need?
The Eye of Heav'n pervades the Depths beneath
The Shades of Darkness, and the Realms of Death.
Observe yon Planets run their destin'd Race,
This self-pois'd Earth, that cheers the Wilds of Space.
In cloudy Urns collected Show'rs are pent,
Nor is the thin Cloud by the Pressure rent.
This Veil obscures the Sun's too-potent Rays,
Lest the green Tribes should perish in his Blaze.
Strict Bounds are fix'd to all the wat'ry Store,
Nor shall they fail till Nature is no more.
At God's Reproof the central Orbs sink down,
The Bláze of Æther darkens in his Frown.
His Word divides the congregated Waves,
See Tyrants sink in unexpected Graves!
At His Direction glows the Milky Way,
With countless Beams of twinkling Beauty gay.
The Glories these of Nature's infant Hour,
But who can paint the Thunder of his Pow'r?
The Shades of Darkness, and the Realms of Death.
Observe yon Planets run their destin'd Race,
This self-pois'd Earth, that cheers the Wilds of Space.
In cloudy Urns collected Show'rs are pent,
Nor is the thin Cloud by the Pressure rent.
This Veil obscures the Sun's too-potent Rays,
Lest the green Tribes should perish in his Blaze.
49
Nor shall they fail till Nature is no more.
At God's Reproof the central Orbs sink down,
The Bláze of Æther darkens in his Frown.
His Word divides the congregated Waves,
See Tyrants sink in unexpected Graves!
At His Direction glows the Milky Way,
With countless Beams of twinkling Beauty gay.
The Glories these of Nature's infant Hour,
But who can paint the Thunder of his Pow'r?
As lives that God, whose Frowns my Spirit break,
To Life's last Hour no Falsehood will I speak.
Your Rancor shall not snatch fair Virtue's Crown,
Nor in Death's Pangs will Job Her Love disown.
In strict Embrace these Arms shall hold her fast,
Nor shall her Voice reproach me to the last.
Let my vain Foes each artful Maze pursue,
While I to Honour's sacred Paths am true.
What Ray of Hope the Hypocrite shall chear,
When his false Eyes behold Destruction near?
Will God, when Vengeance crushes, hear his Cry,
Or will his two-fac'd Pray'r pervade the Sky?
To Life's last Hour no Falsehood will I speak.
Your Rancor shall not snatch fair Virtue's Crown,
Nor in Death's Pangs will Job Her Love disown.
In strict Embrace these Arms shall hold her fast,
Nor shall her Voice reproach me to the last.
Let my vain Foes each artful Maze pursue,
While I to Honour's sacred Paths am true.
50
When his false Eyes behold Destruction near?
Will God, when Vengeance crushes, hear his Cry,
Or will his two-fac'd Pray'r pervade the Sky?
Nay, oft on Life's promiscuous Scene we find
The Friend of Vice to dreadful Pains consign'd.
The stern Oppressor's Progeny a-while
May with luxuriant Branches gayly smile:
His House may shine with splendid Pillage drest,
His Wardrobe fill'd with many a painted Vest:
But soon his Pomp, his Seed, himself shall fall,
And one wide-wasting Ruin swallow all.
The visionary Glories swift decay,
Nor shall the Widows weep the direful Day.
Rejoicing Tribes shall hail the welcome Hour,
When low shall sink this Son of lawless Pow'r.
Nor shall the lying Monument proclaim
To future Ages his detested Name.
The Friend of Vice to dreadful Pains consign'd.
The stern Oppressor's Progeny a-while
May with luxuriant Branches gayly smile:
His House may shine with splendid Pillage drest,
His Wardrobe fill'd with many a painted Vest:
But soon his Pomp, his Seed, himself shall fall,
And one wide-wasting Ruin swallow all.
The visionary Glories swift decay,
Nor shall the Widows weep the direful Day.
Rejoicing Tribes shall hail the welcome Hour,
When low shall sink this Son of lawless Pow'r.
Nor shall the lying Monument proclaim
To future Ages his detested Name.
51
But why not all the Bad this Lot betides,
If we inquire, no Light our Efforts guides.
Sagacious Man may find the silver Veins,
Nay, each bright Ore that inmost Earth contains;
The Paths where delving Beasts can never go,
The Caverns which no Vultur's Eye can know.
With dreary Night the bold of Heart may dwell,
And draw the beamy Treasure from her Cell;
Ope the dread Mine, and bring the Gold away,
And the blue Sapphires to their kindred Day.
Industrious Man the rushing Floods may drain,
Dry the dank Pit, in Darkness plunge again;
Dig down the Mountain; change the River's Course,
And bound with Banks th' impetuous Torrent's Force.
If we inquire, no Light our Efforts guides.
Sagacious Man may find the silver Veins,
Nay, each bright Ore that inmost Earth contains;
The Paths where delving Beasts can never go,
The Caverns which no Vultur's Eye can know.
With dreary Night the bold of Heart may dwell,
And draw the beamy Treasure from her Cell;
Ope the dread Mine, and bring the Gold away,
And the blue Sapphires to their kindred Day.
Industrious Man the rushing Floods may drain,
Dry the dank Pit, in Darkness plunge again;
Dig down the Mountain; change the River's Course,
And bound with Banks th' impetuous Torrent's Force.
But where has aweful Wisdom fix'd her Reign?
Shall human Skill her arduous Thoughts explain?
Earth says, she knows not her serene Abode,
Nor Ocean owns this Effluence of his God.
Nor Gold, nor Adamant of greater Name,
Nor Pearl, nor Coral, nor the Ruby's Flame,
Nor all the Treasures of the East display'd
Can buy one Smile of this celestial Maid.
Shall human Skill her arduous Thoughts explain?
Earth says, she knows not her serene Abode,
Nor Ocean owns this Effluence of his God.
52
Nor Pearl, nor Coral, nor the Ruby's Flame,
Nor all the Treasures of the East display'd
Can buy one Smile of this celestial Maid.
'Tis He, whose boundless, all-encircling Mind
Metes the collected Waves, and weighs the Wind;
Whose Lightnings issue from the bursting Clōud,
Whose Pow'r the dreadful Thunder speaks aloud:
'Tis He who uncreated Wisdom knows,
From whom this plain, this blest Instruction flows—
“O Man, thy Wisdom is religious Fear,
“And to depart from Ill thy Knowledge here.”
Metes the collected Waves, and weighs the Wind;
Whose Lightnings issue from the bursting Clōud,
Whose Pow'r the dreadful Thunder speaks aloud:
'Tis He who uncreated Wisdom knows,
From whom this plain, this blest Instruction flows—
“O Man, thy Wisdom is religious Fear,
“And to depart from Ill thy Knowledge here.”
He said, and paus'd —
Yet could not all his melting Sorrow find
Suspicion's Heart to Pity's Tear inclin'd.
In sullen Silence while they pass the Hour,
His Plaints, renew'd, these ardent Wishes pour.
Yet could not all his melting Sorrow find
Suspicion's Heart to Pity's Tear inclin'd.
In sullen Silence while they pass the Hour,
His Plaints, renew'd, these ardent Wishes pour.
53
“Oh that I were as in the greener Day,
When with bright Scenes impassion'd Hope was gay:
When Smiles of Heav'n my blooming Branches bless'd,
And Peace, all-chearing, caught me to her Breast:
When, joy-inspir'd, the Moments swiftly roll'd,
And prosp'ring Traffic strew'd the Dust of Gold!
When with bright Scenes impassion'd Hope was gay:
When Smiles of Heav'n my blooming Branches bless'd,
And Peace, all-chearing, caught me to her Breast:
When, joy-inspir'd, the Moments swiftly roll'd,
And prosp'ring Traffic strew'd the Dust of Gold!
When I prepar'd for Judgment in the Gate,
Youth and less-wond'ring Age rever'd my State.
The Lips of Kings respectful Silence seal'd,
While Job the Purpose of his Soul reveal'd.
Then the delighted Ear his Lore aprov'd,
The raptur'd Eye bore Witness that it lov'd;
Lov'd the kind Friend, with whom the Sighs of Grief,
And modest Tears of Penury found Relief:
Who for lorn Orphans would his Wealth employ,
And caus'd the Widow's Heart to sing for Joy:
Who rob'd in Virtue, crown'd with Justice sate,
While Truth's bright Hand unravel'd each Debate:
Whose blest Benevolence, whose paternal Care
Th' unwary Soul deliver'd from the Snare:
Who search'd, who patroniz'd the Needy's Cause,
And snatch'd the Spoil between the Villain's Jaws.
Youth and less-wond'ring Age rever'd my State.
The Lips of Kings respectful Silence seal'd,
While Job the Purpose of his Soul reveal'd.
Then the delighted Ear his Lore aprov'd,
The raptur'd Eye bore Witness that it lov'd;
Lov'd the kind Friend, with whom the Sighs of Grief,
And modest Tears of Penury found Relief:
Who for lorn Orphans would his Wealth employ,
And caus'd the Widow's Heart to sing for Joy:
Who rob'd in Virtue, crown'd with Justice sate,
While Truth's bright Hand unravel'd each Debate:
54
Th' unwary Soul deliver'd from the Snare:
Who search'd, who patroniz'd the Needy's Cause,
And snatch'd the Spoil between the Villain's Jaws.
Then Reason hop'd, my honour'd House would stand,
My happy Hours be num'rous as the Sand.
Thus for a Time unclouded was my Day.
And on my Branch the nightly Dew-drops lay.
In Peace I govern'd, and I shone in War,
And Glory's Mantle glitter'd on my Car.
For these blest Uses Kingly Pow'r avail'd,
And Men the Father of his People hail'd.
My happy Hours be num'rous as the Sand.
Thus for a Time unclouded was my Day.
And on my Branch the nightly Dew-drops lay.
In Peace I govern'd, and I shone in War,
And Glory's Mantle glitter'd on my Car.
For these blest Uses Kingly Pow'r avail'd,
And Men the Father of his People hail'd.
But now Reproach from ev'ry Wretch I find,
The Desart-robber and the Village-hind.
Yet not the meanest of Mankind alone,
The polish'd Rich, too, mock my moving Moan.
To Pow'r, not Virtue, was their Homage paid—
So soon the rosy Buds of Flatt'ry fade!
The Frown of Heav'n hath rivel'd all my Flow'r,
Now on the Stalk the ruthless Torrents pour.
Whirlwinds of Terror all my Steps pursue,
And sweep my Honours, like the Morning-dew.
The Desart-robber and the Village-hind.
Yet not the meanest of Mankind alone,
The polish'd Rich, too, mock my moving Moan.
To Pow'r, not Virtue, was their Homage paid—
So soon the rosy Buds of Flatt'ry fade!
55
Now on the Stalk the ruthless Torrents pour.
Whirlwinds of Terror all my Steps pursue,
And sweep my Honours, like the Morning-dew.
My ev'ry Nerve is rack'd with ceaseless Pain,
Silence my Cries disturb in his nocturnal Reign.
My wailing Accents to high Heav'n ascend,
Nor does high Heav'n the wish'd-for Succour lend.
Yet sure this mould'ring Frame to Dust will fall,
And the stern Grave at Length attend my Call.
Silence my Cries disturb in his nocturnal Reign.
My wailing Accents to high Heav'n ascend,
Nor does high Heav'n the wish'd-for Succour lend.
Yet sure this mould'ring Frame to Dust will fall,
And the stern Grave at Length attend my Call.
The Poor's Address was precious in my Sight,
Yet Mis'ry comes for Good, and Gloom for Light.
For my gay Harp that chear'd the list'ning Plains
Dull Sorrow pours her never-varied Strains.
Yet Mis'ry comes for Good, and Gloom for Light.
For my gay Harp that chear'd the list'ning Plains
Dull Sorrow pours her never-varied Strains.
Ne'er on forbidden Beauty did I gaze,
Ne'er did I flutter in Temptation's Blaze.
What Lot from Heav'n's impartial Hand can come
For Works impure, but some avenging Doom?
Not the deep Shades of frowning Darkness fly
The vast, surrounding Heav'n's all-seeing Eye.
Transparent is Deceit's best-woven Veil,
And all the mazy Turns of Fraud shall fail.
Ne'er did I flutter in Temptation's Blaze.
56
For Works impure, but some avenging Doom?
Not the deep Shades of frowning Darkness fly
The vast, surrounding Heav'n's all-seeing Eye.
Transparent is Deceit's best-woven Veil,
And all the mazy Turns of Fraud shall fail.
If e'er I drank of lawless Pleasure's Bowl,
Or snar'd the Treasure of my Neighbour's Soul,
Then let my Bosom-consort faithless prove,
And in the Fields of Prostitution rove.
Or snar'd the Treasure of my Neighbour's Soul,
Then let my Bosom-consort faithless prove,
And in the Fields of Prostitution rove.
If e'er this Heart despis'd a Servant's Plea,
(The same blest Hand created him and me;)
Then let me tremble at the Throne of God,
Nor hope the pard'ning Grace I ne'er bestow'd.
(The same blest Hand created him and me;)
Then let me tremble at the Throne of God,
Nor hope the pard'ning Grace I ne'er bestow'd.
If from my Courts the Poor in Sorrow turn'd,
And if the hopeless Widow vainly mourn'd:
If ruthless Job in sumptuous Manner far'd,
Nor with the Fatherless his Morsel shar'd:
If the cold trembling Limbs of Wretches bare
Ne'er pour'd their Blessings on my fleecy Care:
Then on this destin'd Head let Curses roll,
And Heav'n-directed Vengeance strike my Soul.
And if the hopeless Widow vainly mourn'd:
57
Nor with the Fatherless his Morsel shar'd:
If the cold trembling Limbs of Wretches bare
Ne'er pour'd their Blessings on my fleecy Care:
Then on this destin'd Head let Curses roll,
And Heav'n-directed Vengeance strike my Soul.
If e'er I worship'd the far-beaming Gold,
Or brooded o'er the Treasures often told:
If e'er the orient Sun, or sweet-ey'd Moon
Serenely walking near her highest Noon,
Deceiv'd me with their delegated Rays,
Or drew to Homage vain my wond'ring Gaze:
Then by the Stroke of Justice let me die,
Who thus denied the God that reigns on high.
Or brooded o'er the Treasures often told:
If e'er the orient Sun, or sweet-ey'd Moon
Serenely walking near her highest Noon,
Deceiv'd me with their delegated Rays,
Or drew to Homage vain my wond'ring Gaze:
Then by the Stroke of Justice let me die,
Who thus denied the God that reigns on high.
If I rejoic'd when Mischief smote my Foe,
Nor to his hapless Seed did Mercy show:
If to the Stranger was not spread my Store,
Nor to the lonely Trav'ller free my Door:
If e'er these Lips their Errors did disown,
If e'er I shudder'd at the Rabble's Frown:
Then let me crouch beneath the Frowns of God,
And feel the heaviest Rigours of his Rod.”
Nor to his hapless Seed did Mercy show:
If to the Stranger was not spread my Store,
Nor to the lonely Trav'ller free my Door:
58
If e'er I shudder'd at the Rabble's Frown:
Then let me crouch beneath the Frowns of God,
And feel the heaviest Rigours of his Rod.”
59
BOOK III.
'Twas then Elihu rose, (of
Nahor's Line:)
His Soul was fill'd with Energy divine:
With just Resentment all his Bosom glow'd,
That Job should vindicate himself, not God.
Nor fail'd his Anger at those Friends to burn,
Who silent now, no Answer could return.
A Youth Elihu was, of comely Face:
And, shining with fair Fame's unspotted Grace,
He thus.—“Green Years may bear the mellow Fruit,
And Wisdom's Lore from Inspiration shoot.
Long Age this Heart was willing to revere,
And hop'd the pow'rful Voice of Truth to hear.
But Years the Palm of Truth not always boast,
And in the Pomp of Pow'r is Wisdom lost.
The Glare of Pride, a Series of Success,
And Adulation, Reason's Pow'r oppress.
When Flatt'ry's Balm I pour upon the Great,
May God the Wishes of my Soul defeat!
His Soul was fill'd with Energy divine:
With just Resentment all his Bosom glow'd,
That Job should vindicate himself, not God.
Nor fail'd his Anger at those Friends to burn,
Who silent now, no Answer could return.
60
And, shining with fair Fame's unspotted Grace,
He thus.—“Green Years may bear the mellow Fruit,
And Wisdom's Lore from Inspiration shoot.
Long Age this Heart was willing to revere,
And hop'd the pow'rful Voice of Truth to hear.
But Years the Palm of Truth not always boast,
And in the Pomp of Pow'r is Wisdom lost.
The Glare of Pride, a Series of Success,
And Adulation, Reason's Pow'r oppress.
When Flatt'ry's Balm I pour upon the Great,
May God the Wishes of my Soul defeat!
Th' all-knowing Mind that form'd me, has inspir'd;
Heav'n-taught, for Heav'n I plead, as Job requir'd.
No Terror here shall crush thee with Dismay;
I too am cloath'd in perishable Clay.
Heav'n-taught, for Heav'n I plead, as Job requir'd.
No Terror here shall crush thee with Dismay;
I too am cloath'd in perishable Clay.
Hast thou then said, “My Innocence is clear,
“Complete my Virtue can no Trial fear?
“Behold th' Almighty casts the poison'd Dart,
“With cruel Sorrows to tranfix this Heart.”
“Complete my Virtue can no Trial fear?
61
“With cruel Sorrows to tranfix this Heart.”
Wrong is thy Plea: Th' Almighty Ruler's just,
But his great Thoughts discloses not to Dust.
Whene'er he deigns in Visions of the Night
To dart Instruction's Rays on human Sight,
He wills to bring the tow'ring Purpose low,
Points out some Pit, or checks some deadly Foe.
But his great Thoughts discloses not to Dust.
Whene'er he deigns in Visions of the Night
To dart Instruction's Rays on human Sight,
He wills to bring the tow'ring Purpose low,
Points out some Pit, or checks some deadly Foe.
Whene'er he visits us with Racks of Pain,
And speeds the rapid Fever in each Vein,
Our drossy Souls the potent Fire refines,
Till the bright Ore in polish'd Beauty shines.
Then Mercy's smiling Form shall Joy restore,
And we the gracious Hand that smote adore.
And speeds the rapid Fever in each Vein,
Our drossy Souls the potent Fire refines,
Till the bright Ore in polish'd Beauty shines.
Then Mercy's smiling Form shall Joy restore,
And we the gracious Hand that smote adore.
If Man the Error of his Ways confess,
Each Virtue brighten, and each Wrong redress,
Then God from Mis'ry's Jaws will snatch his Soul,
And endless Blessings on his Head shall roll.
Each Virtue brighten, and each Wrong redress,
62
And endless Blessings on his Head shall roll.
Mark well, O Job, my Speech; and yet reply,
If thou this sacred Doctrine canst deny.—
If thou this sacred Doctrine canst deny.—
To you, ye wise of Heart, my Thoughts appeal,
The Ray of Truth your generous Bosoms feel.
Shall wretched Job this virtuous Praise decline,
And, 'mid his Woes, impeach the Truth Divine?
The Ray of Truth your generous Bosoms feel.
Shall wretched Job this virtuous Praise decline,
And, 'mid his Woes, impeach the Truth Divine?
Ye wild Suspicions of Injustice, fly,
Nor madly brave the Ruler of the Sky.
Shall the supreme Possessor wish for more?
Shall Bribes increase his still-exub'rant store?
Before what great Superior shall He fall,
Whose Pow'r ineffable created all?
Nor madly brave the Ruler of the Sky.
Shall the supreme Possessor wish for more?
Shall Bribes increase his still-exub'rant store?
Before what great Superior shall He fall,
Whose Pow'r ineffable created all?
If to a Point high Heav'n contracts our Span,
Withdraws the Spirit that was breath'd in Man,
Strait shall the falling Species spread the Plain,
And to their Kindred Dust return again.
Withdraws the Spirit that was breath'd in Man,
63
And to their Kindred Dust return again.
Presum'st thou to an earthly Prince to say,
Unjust thy Reign, and cruel is thy Sway?
And shall thy Censure bold that Monarch scan,
Who views with equal Eyes each State of Man?
Whose Favours wide as boundless Nature fall,
Whose Works impartial speak the God of all.
Unjust thy Reign, and cruel is thy Sway?
And shall thy Censure bold that Monarch scan,
Who views with equal Eyes each State of Man?
Whose Favours wide as boundless Nature fall,
Whose Works impartial speak the God of all.
Each artful Path of Vice that Mind must know,
Which sees the Heights above, the Depths below.
No false Grimaces, no involv'd Deceit,
No Combinations of th' oppressing Great,
Can e'er conceal'd in fraudful Mazes lie,
Or 'scape unseen the all-pervading Eye.
Which sees the Heights above, the Depths below.
No false Grimaces, no involv'd Deceit,
No Combinations of th' oppressing Great,
Can e'er conceal'd in fraudful Mazes lie,
Or 'scape unseen the all-pervading Eye.
He pitying hears deserted Grief complain,
And sends sweet Hope to sooth the Captive's Chain.
He wills—fair Peace extends her downy Wings:
He wills—stern War the Torch of Terror flings.
And sends sweet Hope to sooth the Captive's Chain.
64
He wills—stern War the Torch of Terror flings.
Revere his Knowledge, and adore his Pow'r,
O Job, amidst Affliction's fiery Show'r.
Resign'd, thy Sorrows bear: Offend no more:
And Hope will soon unbar her golden Door.
O Job, amidst Affliction's fiery Show'r.
Resign'd, thy Sorrows bear: Offend no more:
And Hope will soon unbar her golden Door.
The vain Perverseness of resisting see!
Canst thou defeat all-righteous Heav'n's Decree?
Canst thou defeat all-righteous Heav'n's Decree?
Behold, the Heav'ns sublime in Glory shine,
Say, can thy Sins affect the Bliss Divine?
Can in that God vindictive Fury glow,
Who with a Word commands the Things below?
Or can thy Truth his Happiness increase,
Who reigns the Lord of Life, the Prince of Peace?
Say, can thy Sins affect the Bliss Divine?
Can in that God vindictive Fury glow,
Who with a Word commands the Things below?
Or can thy Truth his Happiness increase,
Who reigns the Lord of Life, the Prince of Peace?
Men may to Men the direst Curses prove,
Thro' Scenes of Murder and Oppression rove:
Mean-while their Hearts forget that Heav'nly Pow'r,
Who sooths with Harmony the slumb'ring Hour;
Whose Love illumes Mankind with Reason's Ray,
And opes, to Brutes unknown, fair Virtue's Way.
Thro' Scenes of Murder and Oppression rove:
65
Who sooths with Harmony the slumb'ring Hour;
Whose Love illumes Mankind with Reason's Ray,
And opes, to Brutes unknown, fair Virtue's Way.
Tho' Heav'n the vain Petition will not hear,
Nor at thy Call the King of Saints appear;
Yet in bright Equity's Tribunal trust,
Severe she will not mark imperfect Dust.”
Nor at thy Call the King of Saints appear;
Yet in bright Equity's Tribunal trust,
Severe she will not mark imperfect Dust.”
Here stopp'd the glowing Youth's prophetic Rage,
To find the Sanction of approving Age—
Then, with fresh Truths inspir'd, he forward ran,
“To vindicate the Ways of God to Man.”
To find the Sanction of approving Age—
Then, with fresh Truths inspir'd, he forward ran,
“To vindicate the Ways of God to Man.”
“Th' eternal Mind, that form'd, will ne'er despise:
Can Wrong pervert th' All-pow'rful and All-wise?
Oft now the wicked feels His dreadful Dart;
On all He will perform what now He acts in Part.
Oft now the Righteous sits in royal State,
And future Glories all the Just await.
Can Wrong pervert th' All-pow'rful and All-wise?
Oft now the wicked feels His dreadful Dart;
On all He will perform what now He acts in Part.
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And future Glories all the Just await.
Is any good Man bound in Chains of Woe?
Thence shall his Soul more finish'd Virtue know;
Thence brighter shall his Faith and Resignation glow.
By Grief, the dawning Goodness of the Mind,
Purg'd from it's Spots, shall clearer Radiance find.
Then on it's Progress fair the Heav'ns shall smile,
And bless the Produce of it's grateful Toil.
Thence shall his Soul more finish'd Virtue know;
Thence brighter shall his Faith and Resignation glow.
By Grief, the dawning Goodness of the Mind,
Purg'd from it's Spots, shall clearer Radiance find.
Then on it's Progress fair the Heav'ns shall smile,
And bless the Produce of it's grateful Toil.
But while the false, the hard of Heart endure
The Pangs of Pain, no Blessing they procure:
From Wrath to Wrath, from Grief to Grief they go,
And feel the Preludes of eternal Woe.
The Pangs of Pain, no Blessing they procure:
From Wrath to Wrath, from Grief to Grief they go,
And feel the Preludes of eternal Woe.
Afflicted Prince, yet profit by thy Pain;
Nor e'er the righteous Ways of God arraign.
Hadst thou not utter'd the repining Groan,
E'er now His Aid thy falt'ring Steps had known,
And round thy Head rekindling Glory shone.
Nor e'er the righteous Ways of God arraign.
Hadst thou not utter'd the repining Groan,
E'er now His Aid thy falt'ring Steps had known,
And round thy Head rekindling Glory shone.
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Why dost thou wrestle with the Pow'r supreme?
To break his steely Fetters dost thou dream?
Why dost thou Death's destroying Hand implore?
Repentance never opes His ebon Door.
To break his steely Fetters dost thou dream?
Why dost thou Death's destroying Hand implore?
Repentance never opes His ebon Door.
Now the great Works of God His Impress show,
And now we rev'rence what we ne'er can know.
Dar'st thou attempt Eternity's Profound?
Or measure with thy Line what knows no Bound?
See falling Clouds dissolv'd in genial Rain,
Or rise attracted from the humid Main!
Now from the Clouds tremendous Thunders speak,
And swift-wing'd Hurricanes the Nations shake.
While the red Lightning's Flash the Welkin cleaves,
Appall'd my shudd'ring Soul the Stroke receives:
While issues forth the dreadful, bursting Roar,
Aghast, I fear that Nature is no more.
The Beasts astonish'd seek their gloomy Caves;
No living Soul th' impetuous Horrors braves.
And now we rev'rence what we ne'er can know.
Dar'st thou attempt Eternity's Profound?
Or measure with thy Line what knows no Bound?
See falling Clouds dissolv'd in genial Rain,
Or rise attracted from the humid Main!
Now from the Clouds tremendous Thunders speak,
And swift-wing'd Hurricanes the Nations shake.
While the red Lightning's Flash the Welkin cleaves,
Appall'd my shudd'ring Soul the Stroke receives:
While issues forth the dreadful, bursting Roar,
Aghast, I fear that Nature is no more.
The Beasts astonish'd seek their gloomy Caves;
No living Soul th' impetuous Horrors braves.
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But view a softer Scene—The flaky Snow
Prepares her nitrous Treasures to bestow.
The Breath of God pervades the wat'ry Plains,
And binds their fluid Forms in silent Chains;
Till the kind Influence of the Southern Gale
New Life inspires, and the strong Fetters fail.
Prepares her nitrous Treasures to bestow.
The Breath of God pervades the wat'ry Plains,
And binds their fluid Forms in silent Chains;
Till the kind Influence of the Southern Gale
New Life inspires, and the strong Fetters fail.
In pleasing Changes thus the Seasons roll,
Fulfil the Purpose of Creation's Soul;
Wisdom Supreme declare in Accents loud;
Revive the Humble, and controul the Proud.
Fulfil the Purpose of Creation's Soul;
Wisdom Supreme declare in Accents loud;
Revive the Humble, and controul the Proud.
Yet, Job, reflect—
If thou perceiv'st not how the Clouds of Air,
Pent in their Folds, can heavier Waters bear;
And if thou know'st not how the Skill Divine
Makes the blue Æther like a Mirror shine:
How shalt thou search the Secrets of His Reign?
Vain is the tow'ring Thought, each Effort vain.”
If thou perceiv'st not how the Clouds of Air,
Pent in their Folds, can heavier Waters bear;
And if thou know'st not how the Skill Divine
Makes the blue Æther like a Mirror shine:
How shalt thou search the Secrets of His Reign?
Vain is the tow'ring Thought, each Effort vain.”
69
'Twas here Elihu ceas'd his heav'nly Lore.
Behold him now in suppliant Guise adore
Th' approaching Symbol of Almighty Pow'r.
Behold him now in suppliant Guise adore
Th' approaching Symbol of Almighty Pow'r.
The Whirlwinds roar, the trembling Mountains nod,
Then to the Patriarch speaks the Voice of God.
Then to the Patriarch speaks the Voice of God.
“How dares thy swelling Pride, short-sighted Man,
The Counsels of Omnipotence to scan?
Now summon all thy vaunted Pow'rs, and tell
Where wast thou when the Line on Chaos fell;
When the great Deep my forming Voice obey'd,
When the Foundations of the World were laid?
Say on what Springs it's fair Proportions hung,
When all the Sons of God in Chorus sung,
And with the gladsome Strains the Roofs of Æther rung?
The Counsels of Omnipotence to scan?
Now summon all thy vaunted Pow'rs, and tell
Where wast thou when the Line on Chaos fell;
When the great Deep my forming Voice obey'd,
When the Foundations of the World were laid?
Say on what Springs it's fair Proportions hung,
When all the Sons of God in Chorus sung,
And with the gladsome Strains the Roofs of Æther rung?
When from th' Abyss fierce-sprung th' impetuous Wave,
Who to young Ocean's Flood the Barrier gave?
Who hollow'd out the Main's capacious Bed,
While o'er his infant Face the Veil was spread?
What Voice but mine could to his Billows say,
These Bounds, these Bars your madd'ning Course shall stay,
And, lo! the dread Command the furious Floods obey.
Who to young Ocean's Flood the Barrier gave?
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While o'er his infant Face the Veil was spread?
What Voice but mine could to his Billows say,
These Bounds, these Bars your madd'ning Course shall stay,
And, lo! the dread Command the furious Floods obey.
Say, at thy Call does yellow Morning rise
T' illume the Ends of Earth, to gild the Skies?
The lurking Wretch detests the darting Beam,
A Blessing to the World, but Curse to him.
Thus the proud Looks, appall'd, my Terrors feel,
As the soft Wax receives the forming Seal.
T' illume the Ends of Earth, to gild the Skies?
The lurking Wretch detests the darting Beam,
A Blessing to the World, but Curse to him.
Thus the proud Looks, appall'd, my Terrors feel,
As the soft Wax receives the forming Seal.
Hast thou explor'd the Sources of the Deep,
Seen Death's black Portal, known that shadowy Sleep?
Has Earth's small Globe confess'd thy bounding Line?
How shalt thou then aspire to Things divine?
Will Light's all-chearing Rays attend thy Call?
For thee will unessential Darkness fall?
Didst thou exist before the Lamp of Day?
Or whence proceeds thy boasted Wisdom, say?
When to the fleecy Treasures of the Snow;
Or to the Stores of Hail when didst thou go?
Know'st thou the bellowing Thunder's dreadful Force?
Or canst thou stay the rapid Lightning's Course?
Th' Artill'ry these, that move at my Command,
To shake their Horrors on a guilty Land.
On Wind's resistless Wings when didst thou fly?
When deal the genial Waters from the Sky?
Seen Death's black Portal, known that shadowy Sleep?
Has Earth's small Globe confess'd thy bounding Line?
How shalt thou then aspire to Things divine?
Will Light's all-chearing Rays attend thy Call?
For thee will unessential Darkness fall?
71
Or whence proceeds thy boasted Wisdom, say?
When to the fleecy Treasures of the Snow;
Or to the Stores of Hail when didst thou go?
Know'st thou the bellowing Thunder's dreadful Force?
Or canst thou stay the rapid Lightning's Course?
Th' Artill'ry these, that move at my Command,
To shake their Horrors on a guilty Land.
On Wind's resistless Wings when didst thou fly?
When deal the genial Waters from the Sky?
Has thy Domain, and not the Forest wild
With fav'ring Dews and fresh'ning Herbage smil'd?
To countless Drops who breaks the rushing Store?
Who spreads the icy Robe, or Mantle hoar?
From thee do Pleiads kind their Influence boast?
Or can thy Voice unbind Orion's Frost?
Is it for thee the Constellations roll?
For thee does Mazzaroth gild the southern Pole?
Is it for thee Arcturus' Sons display
On Night's reviving Face their northern Ray?
Dost thou the Laws of heav'nly Kingdoms know?
Or wilt thou with the Stars their radiant Journey go?
With fav'ring Dews and fresh'ning Herbage smil'd?
To countless Drops who breaks the rushing Store?
Who spreads the icy Robe, or Mantle hoar?
From thee do Pleiads kind their Influence boast?
Or can thy Voice unbind Orion's Frost?
Is it for thee the Constellations roll?
For thee does Mazzaroth gild the southern Pole?
72
On Night's reviving Face their northern Ray?
Dost thou the Laws of heav'nly Kingdoms know?
Or wilt thou with the Stars their radiant Journey go?
Will the big Clouds obey thy firm Decree?
Or will the forky Lightnings play for thee?
What Pow'r inform'd the Mind with Wisdom's Ray?
With Reason's Torch illum'd a Form of Clay?
Canst thou with tyrant Pow'r keep back the Rain,
When groan the thirsty Furrows of the Plain?
Or will the forky Lightnings play for thee?
What Pow'r inform'd the Mind with Wisdom's Ray?
With Reason's Torch illum'd a Form of Clay?
Canst thou with tyrant Pow'r keep back the Rain,
When groan the thirsty Furrows of the Plain?
Will the young Lion's Heart extol thy Care?
Wilt thou the Raven's hoarse Petition hear?
Will the wild Goat in yeaning bless thy Aid?
Or seeks the Fawn from thee the tender Blade?
Who freed the Zebra from th' imperious Rein,
And gave the Mountains wild for his Demesne?
Will the Rhinoceros plow th' extended Field?
Wilt thou to him the Cares of Harvest yield?
Wilt thou the Raven's hoarse Petition hear?
Will the wild Goat in yeaning bless thy Aid?
Or seeks the Fawn from thee the tender Blade?
Who freed the Zebra from th' imperious Rein,
And gave the Mountains wild for his Demesne?
Will the Rhinoceros plow th' extended Field?
Wilt thou to him the Cares of Harvest yield?
73
From thee do Pheasants boast each glossy dye?
Or with thy Plumage does the Ostrich fly?
Her promis'd Brood the genial Sun-beams warm,
And from the vagrant Foot she dreads no Harm.
When the swift Steerage leads her airy Course,
She scorns the Rider, and the warrior Horse.
Or with thy Plumage does the Ostrich fly?
Her promis'd Brood the genial Sun-beams warm,
And from the vagrant Foot she dreads no Harm.
When the swift Steerage leads her airy Course,
She scorns the Rider, and the warrior Horse.
Whence boasts the warrior Horse his Vigour young?
Hast thou his haughty Neck with Light'ning hung?
Like some vile Insect's, canst thou crush his Frame,
When his fierce Nostrils dart the living Flame?
With snorting Pride he paws the dusty Field;
To meet the Foe he asks no seven-fold Shield.
When Terror waves his Torch, he mocks at Fear,
Regards no twanging Bow, no glitt'ring Spear.
He dances to the Trumpet's martial Sound;
With gen'rous Rage he swallows up the Ground:
Drinks in the Tumults of the Fight afar,
The Clang of Arms and Thunder of the War.
Hast thou his haughty Neck with Light'ning hung?
Like some vile Insect's, canst thou crush his Frame,
When his fierce Nostrils dart the living Flame?
With snorting Pride he paws the dusty Field;
To meet the Foe he asks no seven-fold Shield.
When Terror waves his Torch, he mocks at Fear,
Regards no twanging Bow, no glitt'ring Spear.
He dances to the Trumpet's martial Sound;
With gen'rous Rage he swallows up the Ground:
Drinks in the Tumults of the Fight afar,
The Clang of Arms and Thunder of the War.
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Dost thou direct the Falcon's tow'ring Way,
Or teach the Hawk to stoop upon her Prey?
At thy Suggestion does yon Eagle fly,
To reach the Rocks, and fix her Dome on high?
The falling Carcase for her Young she 'spies,
And all the Horrors of the War defies.
Or teach the Hawk to stoop upon her Prey?
At thy Suggestion does yon Eagle fly,
To reach the Rocks, and fix her Dome on high?
The falling Carcase for her Young she 'spies,
And all the Horrors of the War defies.
What Soul a Blemish in my Works can find,
Or dare to grapple with the perfect Mind?”
Or dare to grapple with the perfect Mind?”
Abash'd, the Patriarch said in humble Strain,
Silence shall seal my Lips.—
Silence shall seal my Lips.—
The Whirlwinds roar, the trembling Mountains nod,
In Majesty proceeds the Voice of God.
In Majesty proceeds the Voice of God.
“Say, when a loftier Stretch thy Folly tries,
Shall heav'nly Wisdom sink that Dust may rise?
From thee, or from thy God do Light'nings beam?
Or canst thou thunder with a Voice like him?
Now let Perfection on thy Helmet shine,
And cloath thyself with Majesty divine.
Let thy dread Anger rage with Vengeance loud;
Smite on his Throne the Tyrant; crush the Proud:
Their struggling Souls in Chains resistless bind,
Then from himself shall Job Salvation find.
Shall heav'nly Wisdom sink that Dust may rise?
From thee, or from thy God do Light'nings beam?
Or canst thou thunder with a Voice like him?
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And cloath thyself with Majesty divine.
Let thy dread Anger rage with Vengeance loud;
Smite on his Throne the Tyrant; crush the Proud:
Their struggling Souls in Chains resistless bind,
Then from himself shall Job Salvation find.
Now turn thy circling Wing to Earth again,
And walk with Behemoth the wond'ring Plain.
Tho' river-born, he leaves the sportive Floods,
On Herbage feeds, and crops the blooming Woods.
While Bars of Steel support his scaly Chine,
He feels the Terrors of no Sword but mine.
In Majesty of Length behold him laid
On the crush'd Reeds, or wanton in the Shade.
Wide o'er the gushing Streams his Eye-balls smile;
His thirsty Jaws, he trusts, can drain the Nile.
And walk with Behemoth the wond'ring Plain.
Tho' river-born, he leaves the sportive Floods,
On Herbage feeds, and crops the blooming Woods.
While Bars of Steel support his scaly Chine,
He feels the Terrors of no Sword but mine.
In Majesty of Length behold him laid
On the crush'd Reeds, or wanton in the Shade.
Wide o'er the gushing Streams his Eye-balls smile;
His thirsty Jaws, he trusts, can drain the Nile.
Say, dreads Leviathan the gilded Snare?
Will Art the length'ning Cord for him prepare?
Will his imperial Heart thy Grace implore,
Or in submissive Guise attend thy Door?
In sportive Gambols will he dance for Hire;
Or meet in Traffic's Day the Sons of Tyre?
The barbed Irons does thy Courage dart?
Vain is the Contest, vain thy vaunted Art.
Who dares disturb the wat'ry Monarch's Sleep,
Or stir his Wrath to shake the foamy Deep?
Lo, from his Threats astonish'd Mortals fly,
And shall they brave the Sovereign of the Sky?
To whom shall I the Palm of Pow'r resign,
When all beneath the vaulted Heav'ns is mine?
This Son of Pow'r in high Derision holds
The lifted Spear that threats his scaly Folds.
Wilt thou the Pressure of his Teeth abide,
Or darken with a Frown his glist'ring Pride,
Or his surrounding Armour will thy Hand divide?
His Eyes fresh-burning from the Flood survey
Stretch their wide Orbs like those that ope the Day.
His issuing Breath projects the wavy Flame,
The Air glows kindling with the furious Stream.
Strength in his wide-spread Chest exulting dwells,
In dauntless Thoughts his lofty Heart excels.
Whene'er he rouses from his wat'ry Bed,
Where pointed Flints and ragged Rocks are spread,
He laughs at Swords, he scorns the steely Shower,
Securely wrapt in Confidence of Power.
Whene'er he moves, the whit'ning Ocean boils,
And to the low Abyss his frighted Flood recoils.”
Will Art the length'ning Cord for him prepare?
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Or in submissive Guise attend thy Door?
In sportive Gambols will he dance for Hire;
Or meet in Traffic's Day the Sons of Tyre?
The barbed Irons does thy Courage dart?
Vain is the Contest, vain thy vaunted Art.
Who dares disturb the wat'ry Monarch's Sleep,
Or stir his Wrath to shake the foamy Deep?
Lo, from his Threats astonish'd Mortals fly,
And shall they brave the Sovereign of the Sky?
To whom shall I the Palm of Pow'r resign,
When all beneath the vaulted Heav'ns is mine?
This Son of Pow'r in high Derision holds
The lifted Spear that threats his scaly Folds.
Wilt thou the Pressure of his Teeth abide,
Or darken with a Frown his glist'ring Pride,
Or his surrounding Armour will thy Hand divide?
His Eyes fresh-burning from the Flood survey
Stretch their wide Orbs like those that ope the Day.
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The Air glows kindling with the furious Stream.
Strength in his wide-spread Chest exulting dwells,
In dauntless Thoughts his lofty Heart excels.
Whene'er he rouses from his wat'ry Bed,
Where pointed Flints and ragged Rocks are spread,
He laughs at Swords, he scorns the steely Shower,
Securely wrapt in Confidence of Power.
Whene'er he moves, the whit'ning Ocean boils,
And to the low Abyss his frighted Flood recoils.”
Then Job reply'd, low-bending to the Throne,
“Resistless Pow'r belongs to Thee alone:
The deep-embow'ring Shades, the darkest Night
Conceal no Sinner from thy piercing Sight.
My trembling Soul attempts no more to find
Th' unbounded Reach of thy creative Mind.
How short aspiring Reason's vaunted Line,
When stretch'd to search thy Ways, thy Works divine!”
“Resistless Pow'r belongs to Thee alone:
The deep-embow'ring Shades, the darkest Night
Conceal no Sinner from thy piercing Sight.
My trembling Soul attempts no more to find
Th' unbounded Reach of thy creative Mind.
How short aspiring Reason's vaunted Line,
When stretch'd to search thy Ways, thy Works divine!”
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The Suff'rer ceas'd, by conscious Fear represt,
And the mute Eye of Silence spoke the rest.
When, lo! the Smiles of Peace and Joy restor'd,
Raptur'd he felt the Goodness he ador'd.
The Train of Want, Disease and Woe depart;
The Tide of Health springs trembling to his Heart.
Again with Wealth his princely Courts abound,
And a long Race with Strength and Beauty crown'd.
His Fame thro' Death the sacred Muse conveys,
And Job dies, old in Virtue, and in Days.
And the mute Eye of Silence spoke the rest.
When, lo! the Smiles of Peace and Joy restor'd,
Raptur'd he felt the Goodness he ador'd.
The Train of Want, Disease and Woe depart;
The Tide of Health springs trembling to his Heart.
Again with Wealth his princely Courts abound,
And a long Race with Strength and Beauty crown'd.
His Fame thro' Death the sacred Muse conveys,
And Job dies, old in Virtue, and in Days.
Elihu was the Son of Barachel, who was a Descendant of Buz, the Son of Naber, who was Brother to Abraham.
The END.
| Job | |