State Tracts Containing Many Necessary Observations and Reflections on the State of our Affairs at Home and Abroad; With some Secret Memoirs. By the Author of the Examiner [i.e. William Oldisworth] |
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Job's Trial under the Persecutions of Satan.
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Job's Trial under the Persecutions of Satan.
Rumour thro' all the East Job's Fall Proclaim'd,
Too swift a Ruin for a Man so Fam'd,
When from afar Three Faithful Friends repair
To sooth his Sorrows, and prevent Despair.
From Sutah's Plains an Ancient Comrade came,
Well known to Job, Old Bildad was his Name;
The News to Naamath had spread at last,
Which made kind Zophar use his utmost haste:
And Theman's Head with Palms for ever Crown'd,
Heard the sad News, and trembled all around;
Its Lord, Wise Eliphas the Summons takes,
And to assist his Friend, his House forsakes.
At distance, as they saw th'Unhappy Man,
Tears from their Eyes in Lavish Torrents ran;
Their Eyes they hardly trust, the Object seen
They once remember had more Happy been;
Their Hair they tear; their Sable Garments rend,
And on the Ground sit by their Wretched Friend:
Seven Days no vent was to their Sorrow found,
All prostrate lay upon the Humid Ground,
And dreadful Silence walk'd the Nightly Round.
Too swift a Ruin for a Man so Fam'd,
When from afar Three Faithful Friends repair
To sooth his Sorrows, and prevent Despair.
From Sutah's Plains an Ancient Comrade came,
Well known to Job, Old Bildad was his Name;
The News to Naamath had spread at last,
Which made kind Zophar use his utmost haste:
And Theman's Head with Palms for ever Crown'd,
Heard the sad News, and trembled all around;
Its Lord, Wise Eliphas the Summons takes,
And to assist his Friend, his House forsakes.
At distance, as they saw th'Unhappy Man,
Tears from their Eyes in Lavish Torrents ran;
Their Eyes they hardly trust, the Object seen
They once remember had more Happy been;
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And on the Ground sit by their Wretched Friend:
Seven Days no vent was to their Sorrow found,
All prostrate lay upon the Humid Ground,
And dreadful Silence walk'd the Nightly Round.
The Fruitful Fountain of the Eyes was dry,
Nature no further Moisture cou'd supply;
And Tears so long had plaid their Mournful part,
Words only cou'd express his Bleeding Heart:
Thrice he Essay'd to speak, but the Parch'd Tongue,
Silent as Death, beneath the Palate hung;
With much ado his Silence thus he broke,
Whilst list'ning Angels writ down what he spoke.
Nature no further Moisture cou'd supply;
And Tears so long had plaid their Mournful part,
Words only cou'd express his Bleeding Heart:
Thrice he Essay'd to speak, but the Parch'd Tongue,
Silent as Death, beneath the Palate hung;
With much ado his Silence thus he broke,
Whilst list'ning Angels writ down what he spoke.
Ye Heavens! Unrivet but one Link of Fate,
Forget that Day which to my Birth gave Date;
Curst be the Night, when from the Genial Bed
I was in Triumph to my Father led.
O! Why was I not Strangled in the Womb,
Or left my Cradle for a Peaceful Tomb?
For ever be that Day forgot ------
O! may the Sun, at each revolving Year,
Stop when he sees the Luckless Moment near:
Let dismal Screech-Owls multiply their Notes,
And threaten Ruin from their Boding Throats:
May such amazing Darkness then appear,
To fright that Day and Night from out the Year.
Why did the Midwife ease my Mothers throws?
Why did the Womb so willingly unclose,
And me to Life and Misery Expose?
How Happy were I now, had I ne'er been,
Had I the Miseries of Life ne'er seen?
With Kings and Statesmen shou'd my Dwelling have
Within that dark retiring Room, the Grave;
There Sin and Virtue both together rest,
The Poor is by the Tyrant Un-Opprest:
The Pris'ner with the Judge undaunted lies,
Nor dreads his Second Sentence, that he dies:
Nor Great nor Small, the least Distinction find,
No Busie Thoughts invade the Labouring Mind,
But all to the same Dungeon are confin'd.
Why shou'd the Man that loaths the Light to see,
Drag on a Tedious Life of Misery?
Like wearied Travellers that long for Home,
I wish for Death, but Death denies to come.
What Use is Day of to the Man that's Blind?
Sure for his sake the Stars were ne'er design'd?
The Stomach pall'd, why do you offer Meat?
Hunger is less a Pain than 'tis to Eat:
With mightier Griefs my wearied Soul's opprest,
Hunger can now no more disturb my Rest.
'Midst Show'rs of Plenty I foresaw this Storm,
Yet all my Prudence cou'd not shun th'Alarm,
Nor Patience 'gainst the threatned Ruin Arm.
Forget that Day which to my Birth gave Date;
Curst be the Night, when from the Genial Bed
I was in Triumph to my Father led.
O! Why was I not Strangled in the Womb,
Or left my Cradle for a Peaceful Tomb?
For ever be that Day forgot ------
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Stop when he sees the Luckless Moment near:
Let dismal Screech-Owls multiply their Notes,
And threaten Ruin from their Boding Throats:
May such amazing Darkness then appear,
To fright that Day and Night from out the Year.
Why did the Midwife ease my Mothers throws?
Why did the Womb so willingly unclose,
And me to Life and Misery Expose?
How Happy were I now, had I ne'er been,
Had I the Miseries of Life ne'er seen?
With Kings and Statesmen shou'd my Dwelling have
Within that dark retiring Room, the Grave;
There Sin and Virtue both together rest,
The Poor is by the Tyrant Un-Opprest:
The Pris'ner with the Judge undaunted lies,
Nor dreads his Second Sentence, that he dies:
Nor Great nor Small, the least Distinction find,
No Busie Thoughts invade the Labouring Mind,
But all to the same Dungeon are confin'd.
Why shou'd the Man that loaths the Light to see,
Drag on a Tedious Life of Misery?
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I wish for Death, but Death denies to come.
What Use is Day of to the Man that's Blind?
Sure for his sake the Stars were ne'er design'd?
The Stomach pall'd, why do you offer Meat?
Hunger is less a Pain than 'tis to Eat:
With mightier Griefs my wearied Soul's opprest,
Hunger can now no more disturb my Rest.
'Midst Show'rs of Plenty I foresaw this Storm,
Yet all my Prudence cou'd not shun th'Alarm,
Nor Patience 'gainst the threatned Ruin Arm.
No more cou'd Job his pitteous Plaints pursue;
His Sick'ning Soul into it self withdrew,
And Inward Mourn'd to shun the Publick View:
When Eliphaz the wish'd Occasion took,
And in these Words his drooping Friend bespoke.
His Sick'ning Soul into it self withdrew,
And Inward Mourn'd to shun the Publick View:
When Eliphaz the wish'd Occasion took,
And in these Words his drooping Friend bespoke.
I'm griev'd t'offend thee, Job, yet cannot hear,
Unanswer'd, what thou offer'st to my Ear:
How can that Man whose Counsels aw'd the Crowd,
To whose Instructions Age it self has bow'd,
Whose great Example has prevail'd so far
To Cure the worst of Evils, ev'n Despair,
The Strong Confirm'd, the Fainting still did'st Guard,
By Preaching Patience, as the surest Ward?
Thus by thy Precepts thou coud'st others save,
Yet now refuse what once to them you gave.
Is this thy Strength, thy boasted Piety,
Who art a Slave to each Calamity?
Wer't thou that Man that once thou seem'dst to be,
Th'unblemish'd Pattern of Integrity,
Heaven ne'er had left thee in this Exigence,
Nor thus repay'd with Woes thy Innocence?
It is the Wicked, who their God offend,
Nurs'd up in Vice, by sure Destruction end.
Who Sow Iniquity, can never hope
The Vicious Seed will better in the Crop:
Th'Ungrateful Product lifts its Sickly Head,
And in its Infancy appears as Dead;
Shou'd it revive a Thousand Dangers past,
Yet sure Destruction is its due at last.
The Mighty Robber, who by Rapine Lives,
And by the Ruin of his Neighbour Thrives,
Has Miseries enough kept in reserve,
His Lavish Youth, his Feeble Age may Starve:
Or in the midst of Sin, whilst he is Young,
Find Sudden Fate surpriz'd by one more Strong.
Unanswer'd, what thou offer'st to my Ear:
How can that Man whose Counsels aw'd the Crowd,
To whose Instructions Age it self has bow'd,
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To Cure the worst of Evils, ev'n Despair,
The Strong Confirm'd, the Fainting still did'st Guard,
By Preaching Patience, as the surest Ward?
Thus by thy Precepts thou coud'st others save,
Yet now refuse what once to them you gave.
Is this thy Strength, thy boasted Piety,
Who art a Slave to each Calamity?
Wer't thou that Man that once thou seem'dst to be,
Th'unblemish'd Pattern of Integrity,
Heaven ne'er had left thee in this Exigence,
Nor thus repay'd with Woes thy Innocence?
It is the Wicked, who their God offend,
Nurs'd up in Vice, by sure Destruction end.
Who Sow Iniquity, can never hope
The Vicious Seed will better in the Crop:
Th'Ungrateful Product lifts its Sickly Head,
And in its Infancy appears as Dead;
Shou'd it revive a Thousand Dangers past,
Yet sure Destruction is its due at last.
The Mighty Robber, who by Rapine Lives,
And by the Ruin of his Neighbour Thrives,
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His Lavish Youth, his Feeble Age may Starve:
Or in the midst of Sin, whilst he is Young,
Find Sudden Fate surpriz'd by one more Strong.
Shew me what Saint will in thy Cause appear,
And for thy sake become Petitioner?
The Fool is by himself best over-thrown,
And Envy needs no Ruin but its own.
I've seen this Wretch all Beauteous to the Eye,
His Lofty Structure reach'd the very Sky;
Like to a mighty Pine his Waving Head
Did with its Top, the yielding Clouds invade:
I've Laught at his suppos'd Security,
When I beheld his sudden Danger nigh:
At once he fell, of Life and Wealth bereft,
And Naked to the World his Off-spring left;
Then all his ill got Gains are snatch'd away,
His Children's Portions made the Robbers Prey.
And for thy sake become Petitioner?
The Fool is by himself best over-thrown,
And Envy needs no Ruin but its own.
I've seen this Wretch all Beauteous to the Eye,
His Lofty Structure reach'd the very Sky;
Like to a mighty Pine his Waving Head
Did with its Top, the yielding Clouds invade:
I've Laught at his suppos'd Security,
When I beheld his sudden Danger nigh:
At once he fell, of Life and Wealth bereft,
And Naked to the World his Off-spring left;
Then all his ill got Gains are snatch'd away,
His Children's Portions made the Robbers Prey.
How thou mistak'st! Afflictions do not come,
Nor Troubles rise from Earths all Fruitful Womb.
By Fate's Decree we're Born to Miseries,
As Fiery Sparks mount upwards to the Skies:
Go then implore his Aid, at whose Command
This vast Creation of Delightful Land,
Her Fruitful Bosom thus extending wide
To fly the close Embraces of the Tide,
Commit thy Griefs to him, to him thy Sorrows give,
Whose Nature 'tis thy Sorrows to relieve,
Whose mighty Works Proclaim his Deity,
Unsearchable, to Reason's Purblind Eye,
Who sends Refreshment to the Thirsty Earth,
And to the Fields restores the Grassy Birth,
Who hears th'Afflicted, Succours his sad State,
But leave the Proud expos'd to certain Fate.
See! The designing Man is over thrown,
The Ruin he intends his Neighbour proves his own:
The Wise is by his Wisdom oft betray'd,
Caught in the Snare he for another laid:
The Tricking Statesman boasts his Policy,
Fancies his Plots above Discovery;
But when by Heaven Reveal'd, they are Betray'd,
Confounded, then his Wit denies him Aid,
Nor can his Fancy'd Sense the coming Storm evade:
The Poor are always the Almighty's Care,
Nor need they ever the Oppressor fear;
The Great may Threaten, but without his Leave
Long they may Threaten Death, but cannot give:
The Just have certain Hope, then who shall dare
Under such mild Correction to Despair?
Heaven, as a Proof of Love, Affliction sends,
But to remind the Patient he Offends;
'Tis as a Warning, not Destruction meant,
Some unforeseen Misfortune to prevent.
That Hand that hurts thee will again restore
Thy Sickly Fortune greater then before:
Like full grown Corn brought from the Harvest Home,
Thou shalt descend in Honour to thy Tomb.
Learn, and at my Expence, in time be Wise,
Thy Suff'rings as a Mark of Favour Prize,
Hope better Fortune, and these Things despise.
Nor Troubles rise from Earths all Fruitful Womb.
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As Fiery Sparks mount upwards to the Skies:
Go then implore his Aid, at whose Command
This vast Creation of Delightful Land,
Her Fruitful Bosom thus extending wide
To fly the close Embraces of the Tide,
Commit thy Griefs to him, to him thy Sorrows give,
Whose Nature 'tis thy Sorrows to relieve,
Whose mighty Works Proclaim his Deity,
Unsearchable, to Reason's Purblind Eye,
Who sends Refreshment to the Thirsty Earth,
And to the Fields restores the Grassy Birth,
Who hears th'Afflicted, Succours his sad State,
But leave the Proud expos'd to certain Fate.
See! The designing Man is over thrown,
The Ruin he intends his Neighbour proves his own:
The Wise is by his Wisdom oft betray'd,
Caught in the Snare he for another laid:
The Tricking Statesman boasts his Policy,
Fancies his Plots above Discovery;
But when by Heaven Reveal'd, they are Betray'd,
Confounded, then his Wit denies him Aid,
Nor can his Fancy'd Sense the coming Storm evade:
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Nor need they ever the Oppressor fear;
The Great may Threaten, but without his Leave
Long they may Threaten Death, but cannot give:
The Just have certain Hope, then who shall dare
Under such mild Correction to Despair?
Heaven, as a Proof of Love, Affliction sends,
But to remind the Patient he Offends;
'Tis as a Warning, not Destruction meant,
Some unforeseen Misfortune to prevent.
That Hand that hurts thee will again restore
Thy Sickly Fortune greater then before:
Like full grown Corn brought from the Harvest Home,
Thou shalt descend in Honour to thy Tomb.
Learn, and at my Expence, in time be Wise,
Thy Suff'rings as a Mark of Favour Prize,
Hope better Fortune, and these Things despise.
Then the Afflicted Job, with Grief opprest,
His secret Sorrows in these Words exprest.
O! That I cou'd my Woes together bind,
O! That my Griefs were in one Scale confin'd.
The Countless Sands that bound the Foaming Seas
Are light, are light indeed, compar'd to these:
So heavy are my Pains, so vast my Grief,
Words cannot ease, nor Silence bring Relief:
My frighted Soul wou'd shun the Dreadful Rod,
And fly the Presence of my Angry God;
Do not my Shrieks convince you of my Pain?
Can you believe I without Cause complain?
Sense is allow'd, ev'n to th'o're Labour'd Brute,
For at the Crib the weary Ox stands Mute.
Why shou'd you fancy I alone shou'd be
So much in Love with gross Stupidity?
Who is so Dull, the sweets of Life to lose,
To hate its Good, and its Misfortunes chuse?
Your idle Words do but encrease my Woe,
And only from a Poison'd Judgment flow.
Were you like me, you wou'd like me intreat,
Within the Grave, a Peaceable Retreat.
His secret Sorrows in these Words exprest.
O! That I cou'd my Woes together bind,
O! That my Griefs were in one Scale confin'd.
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Are light, are light indeed, compar'd to these:
So heavy are my Pains, so vast my Grief,
Words cannot ease, nor Silence bring Relief:
My frighted Soul wou'd shun the Dreadful Rod,
And fly the Presence of my Angry God;
Do not my Shrieks convince you of my Pain?
Can you believe I without Cause complain?
Sense is allow'd, ev'n to th'o're Labour'd Brute,
For at the Crib the weary Ox stands Mute.
Why shou'd you fancy I alone shou'd be
So much in Love with gross Stupidity?
Who is so Dull, the sweets of Life to lose,
To hate its Good, and its Misfortunes chuse?
Your idle Words do but encrease my Woe,
And only from a Poison'd Judgment flow.
Were you like me, you wou'd like me intreat,
Within the Grave, a Peaceable Retreat.
That Heaven wou'd now dismiss me from the Strife,
The Sorrows and Vexations of this Life;
Then in the Bosom of the Earth confin'd,
Free from the Torments of my Sickly Mind,
I might at last this wish'd for Quiet find:
Yet hear me Heaven! And let my Suff'rings end,
Thy pittying Ear to my Complainings lend.
Why shou'd I hope to beg a longer Lease,
To wish Afflictions, and Despair's encrease?
Am I a Stone? That I can thus withstand
Th'amazing Terrors of thy Heavy Hand?
If I from Man might gain the wish'd Redress,
I from my self might hope the best Success.
Sense still remains, but Eloquence is vain,
And Wisdom yield no Balm to ease my Pain:
Wou'd ye be thought my Friends, then Words prepare,
Grateful as Winds that Fan the Scorching Air,
To lull my Sorrows, and prevent Despair?
The Sorrows and Vexations of this Life;
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Free from the Torments of my Sickly Mind,
I might at last this wish'd for Quiet find:
Yet hear me Heaven! And let my Suff'rings end,
Thy pittying Ear to my Complainings lend.
Why shou'd I hope to beg a longer Lease,
To wish Afflictions, and Despair's encrease?
Am I a Stone? That I can thus withstand
Th'amazing Terrors of thy Heavy Hand?
If I from Man might gain the wish'd Redress,
I from my self might hope the best Success.
Sense still remains, but Eloquence is vain,
And Wisdom yield no Balm to ease my Pain:
Wou'd ye be thought my Friends, then Words prepare,
Grateful as Winds that Fan the Scorching Air,
To lull my Sorrows, and prevent Despair?
While blest with Riches, I had many Friends,
But Friendship ever in Affliction ends:
My near Relations from my Ruin run,
As from my Fall they did conclude their own;
So Waters fly, their humble Fountains leave,
And to the Oceans Court with Fury drive.
Friendship, like Ice, does to the Eye appear,
Tempting the Footsteps of the Traveller;
Solid it seems, but it is quickly gone,
And melts beneath the warm Meridian Sun;
As well might Thæma quit her Sun-burnt Plain,
And fly to Shœba for Refreshing Rain,
As I find Comfort from such Friends as these,
One Word of Comfort in my Miseries.
But Friendship ever in Affliction ends:
My near Relations from my Ruin run,
As from my Fall they did conclude their own;
So Waters fly, their humble Fountains leave,
And to the Oceans Court with Fury drive.
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Tempting the Footsteps of the Traveller;
Solid it seems, but it is quickly gone,
And melts beneath the warm Meridian Sun;
As well might Thæma quit her Sun-burnt Plain,
And fly to Shœba for Refreshing Rain,
As I find Comfort from such Friends as these,
One Word of Comfort in my Miseries.
Have I demanded ought now I am Poor,
Demanded ought from your abounding Store?
Did I desire you wou'd your Force Unite,
From the Sabæans to redeem my Right?
What have I done that might your Scorn provoke?
How has my Tongue offended, whilst I spoke?
I wou'd be glad to learn, if you in Love,
And not in Malice, wou'd your Friend Reprove.
Reprove! What for Reproof does Bildad find?
Thou might'st as well convince the Stormy Wind,
As talk to one with Grief thus over-born,
Whose Anguish utters Words unlike his own.
Why do you 'ssault the Helpless, wrong the Poor,
and to a load of Sorrow add yet more?
You know I do not Lye: O! Then be gone,
Be gone, and leave me to my self alone:
You've seen my Life, such as my Life has been,
Such are my Secret Actions ------
My Judgment yet is sound, and in Despight
Of your Malicious Thoughts, I am Upright.
Demanded ought from your abounding Store?
Did I desire you wou'd your Force Unite,
From the Sabæans to redeem my Right?
What have I done that might your Scorn provoke?
How has my Tongue offended, whilst I spoke?
I wou'd be glad to learn, if you in Love,
And not in Malice, wou'd your Friend Reprove.
Reprove! What for Reproof does Bildad find?
Thou might'st as well convince the Stormy Wind,
As talk to one with Grief thus over-born,
Whose Anguish utters Words unlike his own.
Why do you 'ssault the Helpless, wrong the Poor,
and to a load of Sorrow add yet more?
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Be gone, and leave me to my self alone:
You've seen my Life, such as my Life has been,
Such are my Secret Actions ------
My Judgment yet is sound, and in Despight
Of your Malicious Thoughts, I am Upright.
Fix'd is the Period of our Days by Fate,
Each, like a Hireling, does his Minute wait:
The Labourer wishes for th'approaching Night,
Expects his Pay at the declining Light.
Each, like a Hireling, does his Minute wait:
The Labourer wishes for th'approaching Night,
Expects his Pay at the declining Light.
But Months of Pain and Sorrow I possess,
Nor does the Night afford me a Redress:
My Curtain's drawn about my Downy Bed,
And the soft Pillow props my Pensive Head:
I try to Sleep, but O! I try in vain,
Then Sigh and Wish the Day was come again;
As when the Wind invades some Monument,
And in its sides has made a mighty Rent;
A Scene of Horror to the Eye's disclos'd,
And all the Secrets of the Dead Expos'd;
Just so do I appear; thus Ghastly lie,
And from the Loathsome Sight Divert my Eye:
Corruption, Worms, and Dust, are now my share,
Yet Death's deny'd, and flies a Wretches Pray'r.
Nor does the Night afford me a Redress:
My Curtain's drawn about my Downy Bed,
And the soft Pillow props my Pensive Head:
I try to Sleep, but O! I try in vain,
Then Sigh and Wish the Day was come again;
As when the Wind invades some Monument,
And in its sides has made a mighty Rent;
A Scene of Horror to the Eye's disclos'd,
And all the Secrets of the Dead Expos'd;
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And from the Loathsome Sight Divert my Eye:
Corruption, Worms, and Dust, are now my share,
Yet Death's deny'd, and flies a Wretches Pray'r.
Swift are my Hours, they eagerly Post on,
And Weeks and Months insensibly are gone;
Yet Hope at distance keeps, and seems afraid:
To approach me now, and lend its needful Aid;
My Life is only like a rustling Wind
That swiftly flies, and leaves no Tract behind.
No more shall Joy my wearied Soul delight,
Nor Pleasure entertain my Sick'ning Sight.
When I am Dead, unminded I shall lye,
Lost to the World, even in Memory;
For when thy Eyes have mark'd my certain Doom,
Swift as a Cloud I vanish to my Tomb,
For ever lost, nor leave Enquiry room.
He that is laid within his Peaceful Urn,
To his once lov'd Mansion never shall return:
The Palace which his own right Hand did Build,
Scarce the remembrance of his Name shall yield.
Why should I Silent be, since I have none
To tell this hapless Story when I'm gone?
No, no, I must, I will my Griefs Proclaim,
For Silence often argues us too blame.
And Weeks and Months insensibly are gone;
Yet Hope at distance keeps, and seems afraid:
To approach me now, and lend its needful Aid;
My Life is only like a rustling Wind
That swiftly flies, and leaves no Tract behind.
No more shall Joy my wearied Soul delight,
Nor Pleasure entertain my Sick'ning Sight.
When I am Dead, unminded I shall lye,
Lost to the World, even in Memory;
For when thy Eyes have mark'd my certain Doom,
Swift as a Cloud I vanish to my Tomb,
For ever lost, nor leave Enquiry room.
He that is laid within his Peaceful Urn,
To his once lov'd Mansion never shall return:
The Palace which his own right Hand did Build,
Scarce the remembrance of his Name shall yield.
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To tell this hapless Story when I'm gone?
No, no, I must, I will my Griefs Proclaim,
For Silence often argues us too blame.
Good God! Why dost thou fence me thus around,
As Winding Shores their Roaring Torrents bound?
Is this for Innocence the just Reward?
Like Criminals, I'm ever under Guard,
And such a Guard from whom no Man can fly,
That watchful Guard of thy all searching Eye.
As Winding Shores their Roaring Torrents bound?
Is this for Innocence the just Reward?
Like Criminals, I'm ever under Guard,
And such a Guard from whom no Man can fly,
That watchful Guard of thy all searching Eye.
When tir'd with Waking to my Bed I go,
Or on my Couch this wretched Lumber throw;
Sleep flies my Eyes, the Terrors of the Night,
Beyond the Plagues of Day, my Soul affright;
Or if by chance refreshing Slumber creep,
And for a Moment lull my Cares Asleep,
Such dreadful Visions pass before my Sight,
I Trembling Wake, and Chide the Tardy Light.
Death wou'd a Blessing prove, But Life's a Pain,
Yet Pray'rs nor Tears that Blessing can obtain.
I loath, I loath, to drag this hated Chain,
And beg to be reduc'd to Dust again.
Why? What is Mankind but Mortality?
To be the Darling of the Deity.
Sprung from the Dust, and yet Unrival'd share
The Daily Blessing of their Maker's Care?
Or on my Couch this wretched Lumber throw;
Sleep flies my Eyes, the Terrors of the Night,
Beyond the Plagues of Day, my Soul affright;
Or if by chance refreshing Slumber creep,
And for a Moment lull my Cares Asleep,
Such dreadful Visions pass before my Sight,
I Trembling Wake, and Chide the Tardy Light.
Death wou'd a Blessing prove, But Life's a Pain,
Yet Pray'rs nor Tears that Blessing can obtain.
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And beg to be reduc'd to Dust again.
Why? What is Mankind but Mortality?
To be the Darling of the Deity.
Sprung from the Dust, and yet Unrival'd share
The Daily Blessing of their Maker's Care?
This is the Effect of Love, but too severe,
Nor can I longer these Afflictions bear.
O Pardon! Whilst I've Pow'r t'implore thy Aid,
E'er I descend to Nights Eternal Shade,
Where Silence and Oblivion ever Reign,
And dreadful Darkness does her Sway maintain,
There even thou may'st seek me, but in vain.
Nor can I longer these Afflictions bear.
O Pardon! Whilst I've Pow'r t'implore thy Aid,
E'er I descend to Nights Eternal Shade,
Where Silence and Oblivion ever Reign,
And dreadful Darkness does her Sway maintain,
There even thou may'st seek me, but in vain.
To whom thus Bildad answer'd,—
How like the Winds ungovernable Rage,
When with a Warring Sea it does engage,
Are these Wild Sallies of Infirmity,
Where you Condemn the very Deity?
Can God be Unjust? Why dost thou thus exclaim,
And with imputed Sin Prophane his Name?
As Thistles are destry'd from farther growth,
'Cause the base Weed is but of little Worth,
So did the Sinful Race untimely Dye,
As the Reward of their Impiety:
To Heaven with Humblest Adoration Pray,
And grateful Incense on the Altar lay:
The Just ne'er Pray in vain, for Mercy's Ear
Still open stands to the Petitioner:
The Dwellings of the Righteous still appear
Like the sweet Blossoms of the Infant Year.
From small Beginnings mighty Torrents came,
The Petty Riv'lets swell to Rapid Streams;
And Streams with Streams Uniting by Degrees,
Have form'd the spacious Navigable Seas.
Even so the Just encrease; one Family
In time to many Tribes shall Multiply.
Examples are not wanting, cast thy Eye
Upon the Records of Antiquity;
Those Oracles thy Folly will convince,
And shew how Prosperous was Innocence.
Blest Sires! But O! Degenerate Race!
How do our Sins your Memory Disgrace?
There, Job, within the Sacred Annals read,
And trace the Stories of the Pious Dead;
There thou shalt see succeeding Ages live,
And by the Merits of their Fathers thrive;
Prosperity and Piety are over joyn'd,
You hardly one without the other find.
When with a Warring Sea it does engage,
Are these Wild Sallies of Infirmity,
Where you Condemn the very Deity?
Can God be Unjust? Why dost thou thus exclaim,
And with imputed Sin Prophane his Name?
16
'Cause the base Weed is but of little Worth,
So did the Sinful Race untimely Dye,
As the Reward of their Impiety:
To Heaven with Humblest Adoration Pray,
And grateful Incense on the Altar lay:
The Just ne'er Pray in vain, for Mercy's Ear
Still open stands to the Petitioner:
The Dwellings of the Righteous still appear
Like the sweet Blossoms of the Infant Year.
From small Beginnings mighty Torrents came,
The Petty Riv'lets swell to Rapid Streams;
And Streams with Streams Uniting by Degrees,
Have form'd the spacious Navigable Seas.
Even so the Just encrease; one Family
In time to many Tribes shall Multiply.
Examples are not wanting, cast thy Eye
Upon the Records of Antiquity;
Those Oracles thy Folly will convince,
And shew how Prosperous was Innocence.
Blest Sires! But O! Degenerate Race!
How do our Sins your Memory Disgrace?
17
And trace the Stories of the Pious Dead;
There thou shalt see succeeding Ages live,
And by the Merits of their Fathers thrive;
Prosperity and Piety are over joyn'd,
You hardly one without the other find.
Th'Unjust are but a Moments growth, a Day
Gives their Rise Birth, and sees its swift Decay:
Like Forward Fruits, inviting they appear,
And boast the earliest Product of the Year;
When Blasted in the Bud, they hand their Head,
The earlier Blown, the sooner they are Dead.
Thus the Ungodly thrives, tho' for a while
Obsequious Fortune he allow'd to smile;
Tho' Lofty Structures for himself he Builds,
And Reaps the Harvest of a Thousand Fields,
In Substance Great, Great in Authority,
Rever'd by all for seeming Piety.
Yet Heav'n will find him out, and Man shall see
The just Reward of his Hypocrisie:
At his Destruction none Concern'd shall show,
Unpitty'd and Forgotten he shall go;
His very Name shall Perish with his Place,
And on his Ruins rise a Righteous Race.
The Perfect cannot fail, the Sinner must;
Heaven loves the Righteous, but abhors th'Unjust.
If thou art Just, why shou'd thou then complain?
Thou shalt thy former Glory see again;
Smile then not thus Lament: On Heaven rely,
That will thy Pains remove, renew thy Joy,
On thy Insulting Foes Revenge thy Wrongs,
And Guard thee from the Malice of base Tongues.
Gives their Rise Birth, and sees its swift Decay:
Like Forward Fruits, inviting they appear,
And boast the earliest Product of the Year;
When Blasted in the Bud, they hand their Head,
The earlier Blown, the sooner they are Dead.
Thus the Ungodly thrives, tho' for a while
Obsequious Fortune he allow'd to smile;
Tho' Lofty Structures for himself he Builds,
And Reaps the Harvest of a Thousand Fields,
In Substance Great, Great in Authority,
Rever'd by all for seeming Piety.
Yet Heav'n will find him out, and Man shall see
The just Reward of his Hypocrisie:
At his Destruction none Concern'd shall show,
Unpitty'd and Forgotten he shall go;
18
And on his Ruins rise a Righteous Race.
The Perfect cannot fail, the Sinner must;
Heaven loves the Righteous, but abhors th'Unjust.
If thou art Just, why shou'd thou then complain?
Thou shalt thy former Glory see again;
Smile then not thus Lament: On Heaven rely,
That will thy Pains remove, renew thy Joy,
On thy Insulting Foes Revenge thy Wrongs,
And Guard thee from the Malice of base Tongues.
Well hast thou Argu'd, Bildad, Job replies,
But who is Righteous in his Makers Eyes?
Wisdom is Heavens; its Pow'r is Absolute,
Who then, without Offence, can here Dispute?
To oppose such Pow'r wou'd double Folly speak,
Where the Opposer does Destruction seek;
When at his Nod the Hills their Stand forsake,
And Earths Foundations at his Anger shake:
At whose Command the Sun denies to rise,
And Stars refuse their brightness to the Skies;
Who like a Veil, the spacious Heavens has spread,
And on the Waves as on dry Land does dread.
Who made Orion and the Pleides,
To whom he gave the Empire of the Seas.
The Wat'ry South in Chambers he confin'd,
And put a Bridle o'er the Driving Wind:
The Wonders of his Pow'r who can express?
And to define that Pow'r, or Skill is less.
But who is Righteous in his Makers Eyes?
Wisdom is Heavens; its Pow'r is Absolute,
Who then, without Offence, can here Dispute?
To oppose such Pow'r wou'd double Folly speak,
Where the Opposer does Destruction seek;
When at his Nod the Hills their Stand forsake,
And Earths Foundations at his Anger shake:
At whose Command the Sun denies to rise,
And Stars refuse their brightness to the Skies;
Who like a Veil, the spacious Heavens has spread,
And on the Waves as on dry Land does dread.
19
To whom he gave the Empire of the Seas.
The Wat'ry South in Chambers he confin'd,
And put a Bridle o'er the Driving Wind:
The Wonders of his Pow'r who can express?
And to define that Pow'r, or Skill is less.
I loath this Burthen of a Life, and see
Destruction won't distinguish Piety:
Alike his Ministers the Sword employ,
The Perfect and Unjust alike Destroy:
In vain the Guiltless Plead; th'avenging Sword
Cuts short his Plea, nor Answer will afford:
Vast are the Bounds which the Ungodly have,
And Heaven and Chance those vast Dominions gave
Goodness and Greatness seldom are a Kin,
The distance is too great that's set between:
The Hoary Judge, just dropping to his Grave,
To Sordid Bribery is still a Slave:
Thus what Heaven pleases, ever shall be done,
All-powerful and Accountable to none.
Destruction won't distinguish Piety:
Alike his Ministers the Sword employ,
The Perfect and Unjust alike Destroy:
In vain the Guiltless Plead; th'avenging Sword
Cuts short his Plea, nor Answer will afford:
Vast are the Bounds which the Ungodly have,
And Heaven and Chance those vast Dominions gave
Goodness and Greatness seldom are a Kin,
The distance is too great that's set between:
The Hoary Judge, just dropping to his Grave,
To Sordid Bribery is still a Slave:
Thus what Heaven pleases, ever shall be done,
All-powerful and Accountable to none.
20
If I am Wicked, O! I strive in vain,
With Floods of Tears, to wash me white again.
How shall I dare as Man, a worthless Mite,
To hold dispute with Pow'r so Infinite?
Which if 'twill cease to afflict, I will appear
Bold in my Innocence, and void of Fear:
Then willingly I will my Task begin,
And prove I'm Guiltless of imputed Sin,
Till that's allow'd I only can complain,
But never hope for Happiness again.
With Floods of Tears, to wash me white again.
How shall I dare as Man, a worthless Mite,
To hold dispute with Pow'r so Infinite?
Which if 'twill cease to afflict, I will appear
Bold in my Innocence, and void of Fear:
Then willingly I will my Task begin,
And prove I'm Guiltless of imputed Sin,
Till that's allow'd I only can complain,
But never hope for Happiness again.
O my Sick Soul! Life does a Burthen prove,
Yet nothing can the hated Load remove:
The Briny Currents flow without controul,
And Sighs come rushing from my tortur'd Soul.
O God! All I implore, is but to know
What I have done to be afflicted so?
Is there Necessity the Just must be
The daily Marks of thy Severity?
Whilst the Ungodly their full Harvests reap,
And ev'n to excess enjoy a prosp'rous Crop.
Art thou like Man, whose short Sight cannot see
Beyond the reach of gross Mortality?
Are thy Years limited, their Number told,
Or is the Period of thy Days enroll'd?
Cease to enquire, and to afflict me, cease,
Let me alone t'enjoy a little Peace.
Thou know'st, O God! For who but God can tell,
That no Transgression in my Soul does dwell?
If I am Guilty, were Earth at my Command,
It cou'd not save me from thy Pow'rful Hand;
The Work of thy Almighty Hand yet must,
Since 'tis Decreed, be brought again to Dust?
Kneaded from Clay refin'd, 'tis hard to fall,
Shaken by Storms, to my Original.
Yet nothing can the hated Load remove:
The Briny Currents flow without controul,
And Sighs come rushing from my tortur'd Soul.
O God! All I implore, is but to know
What I have done to be afflicted so?
Is there Necessity the Just must be
The daily Marks of thy Severity?
Whilst the Ungodly their full Harvests reap,
And ev'n to excess enjoy a prosp'rous Crop.
Art thou like Man, whose short Sight cannot see
Beyond the reach of gross Mortality?
21
Or is the Period of thy Days enroll'd?
Cease to enquire, and to afflict me, cease,
Let me alone t'enjoy a little Peace.
Thou know'st, O God! For who but God can tell,
That no Transgression in my Soul does dwell?
If I am Guilty, were Earth at my Command,
It cou'd not save me from thy Pow'rful Hand;
The Work of thy Almighty Hand yet must,
Since 'tis Decreed, be brought again to Dust?
Kneaded from Clay refin'd, 'tis hard to fall,
Shaken by Storms, to my Original.
How artfully this Structure was design'd,
Whilst yet within the teeming Womb confin'd?
What Tongue can tell what vast Variety
Of little Vessels in the Body lie?
The Fluid Substance does the Circuit ride,
The Heart's the Fountain that supplies the Tide:
In narrow Channels, Life-conducing Blood
Waters the little World with 'ts Purple Flood.
With Nerves and Bones the Work is Fenc'd within,
And yet Unfinish'd is the great Machine,
Till over all is cast the Cloathing Skin:
Thus was I form'd, with Life and Favour blest,
The choicest of thy Bounties I possest.
But why this change of Fate to me's unknown,
And is discover'd to thy self alone;
To thee alone, who only can descry,
And justly Punish my Impiety.
If I am Wicked, Punishment's my due,
And my Deserts, if I am found Untrue:
If Just, I will not, nor I dare not speak,
Yet sure my Heart will with Afflictions break;
Therefore do thou with Pity view my Pain,
Nor the Submission of my Soul disdain.
Whilst yet within the teeming Womb confin'd?
What Tongue can tell what vast Variety
Of little Vessels in the Body lie?
The Fluid Substance does the Circuit ride,
The Heart's the Fountain that supplies the Tide:
In narrow Channels, Life-conducing Blood
Waters the little World with 'ts Purple Flood.
22
And yet Unfinish'd is the great Machine,
Till over all is cast the Cloathing Skin:
Thus was I form'd, with Life and Favour blest,
The choicest of thy Bounties I possest.
But why this change of Fate to me's unknown,
And is discover'd to thy self alone;
To thee alone, who only can descry,
And justly Punish my Impiety.
If I am Wicked, Punishment's my due,
And my Deserts, if I am found Untrue:
If Just, I will not, nor I dare not speak,
Yet sure my Heart will with Afflictions break;
Therefore do thou with Pity view my Pain,
Nor the Submission of my Soul disdain.
Hunted I am just like a Beast of Prey,
And Groan beneath my Suff'ring all the Day:
Then for a Moment my Afflictions cease,
And o'er my Soul thou spreads thy Wings of Peace;
When strait behold new Miseries assail,
And pour upon me like a Storm of Hail,
Wearied with these new Plagues thou dost devise,
T'encrease my Pain, by changing Miseries:
Again the shifting Scene presents my Sight
With Thousand Enemies prepar'd for Fight,
Which from my Eyes their Balmy Slumbers fright.
And was I Born for this? O! Rather why
Was not that Hour appointed me to Dye?
How had I baffled the expecting Crowd,
If from the Womb I'd slip'd into the Shrowd?
Behold my Race of Life is almost run,
Already I am past my joyful Noon,
And hastily declines the Setting Sun.
Forbear to afflict, let me some Comfort have
Before I take Possession of my Grave;
Before my Journey to Eternity,
Deep does the way beneath the Centre lie,
Where lightsome Day ne'er chears the gloomy Sky.
Where pitchy Clouds the dismal Vaults Invade,
And all around is one continued Shade;
A Land of Darkness, from whose dreadful Bourn
Fate has forbid our Footsteps to return;
A Land of Death, and of Obscurity,
Where Night for ever Rules, and Anarchy.
And Groan beneath my Suff'ring all the Day:
Then for a Moment my Afflictions cease,
And o'er my Soul thou spreads thy Wings of Peace;
When strait behold new Miseries assail,
And pour upon me like a Storm of Hail,
23
T'encrease my Pain, by changing Miseries:
Again the shifting Scene presents my Sight
With Thousand Enemies prepar'd for Fight,
Which from my Eyes their Balmy Slumbers fright.
And was I Born for this? O! Rather why
Was not that Hour appointed me to Dye?
How had I baffled the expecting Crowd,
If from the Womb I'd slip'd into the Shrowd?
Behold my Race of Life is almost run,
Already I am past my joyful Noon,
And hastily declines the Setting Sun.
Forbear to afflict, let me some Comfort have
Before I take Possession of my Grave;
Before my Journey to Eternity,
Deep does the way beneath the Centre lie,
Where lightsome Day ne'er chears the gloomy Sky.
Where pitchy Clouds the dismal Vaults Invade,
And all around is one continued Shade;
A Land of Darkness, from whose dreadful Bourn
Fate has forbid our Footsteps to return;
A Land of Death, and of Obscurity,
Where Night for ever Rules, and Anarchy.
24
Zophar severe in his returns, Storm'd loud,
And thus accus'd him to the listening Crowd;
Vain Boaster! To presume thou art Upright,
And blameless standst before thy Makers Sight;
O! That he wou'd himself in Person come,
And from his Sacred Mouth pronounce thy Doom:
Shew thee what Wisdom is, and what thou art,
The difference 'etwixt thy Meaning and thy Heart.
I tell thee, Wretch, slight are these Miseries,
If measur'd with thy own Iniquities:
Dost thou pretend to search Immensity,
And to Perfection know the Deity?
As far unsearchable to Reason's Eye
As the Recesses of the utmost Sky:
Thou might'st as well pierce with thy Mortal Sight
Thro' Hells wide Regions, over void of Light,
To find him out, the distance is so vast,
Comparison in this is even lost,
For Seas, tho' distant, still must meet a Coast.
All our Conceptions of God's Excellence
Are but imperfect Guesses, from imperfect Sense:
From him alone we Wealth and Being have,
And he may take what he so Freely gave:
What tho' he Kill or Heal, Destroy or Bless,
Who shall the Loss bemoan, or the Encrease?
For his own Glory every thing is done,
And he depends upon himself alone;
For Man to Question with the Deity,
Is to the last Degree, high Blasphemy:
The Hypocrite affects to be thought Wise,
To hide his Actions from observing Eyes;
He puts on Zeal, the safest, best Disguise.
What tho' the World's deceiv'd, Heaven cannot be,
Thin is the Veil of Man's Hypocrisie:
The darkest Plots, the Eye of Heaven does find,
Tho' lodg'd in the close Chambers of the Mind;
How then can Man escape his Wrathful Hand,
Who willfully Transgresses Heaven's Command?
How little cause has he of Sense to boast,
It proves his Ruin, tho' 'tis valu'd most;
Sense ill apply'd, will ever prove a Vice,
And over Sinful, is not over Wise:
Man does Mis-judge of Wisdom; only he
Is truly Wise that loves Integrity;
The rest are knowing Beasts, not a Degree,
By Sin debas'd, above Brutality.
And thus accus'd him to the listening Crowd;
Vain Boaster! To presume thou art Upright,
And blameless standst before thy Makers Sight;
O! That he wou'd himself in Person come,
And from his Sacred Mouth pronounce thy Doom:
Shew thee what Wisdom is, and what thou art,
The difference 'etwixt thy Meaning and thy Heart.
I tell thee, Wretch, slight are these Miseries,
If measur'd with thy own Iniquities:
Dost thou pretend to search Immensity,
And to Perfection know the Deity?
As far unsearchable to Reason's Eye
As the Recesses of the utmost Sky:
Thou might'st as well pierce with thy Mortal Sight
Thro' Hells wide Regions, over void of Light,
To find him out, the distance is so vast,
Comparison in this is even lost,
For Seas, tho' distant, still must meet a Coast.
All our Conceptions of God's Excellence
Are but imperfect Guesses, from imperfect Sense:
From him alone we Wealth and Being have,
And he may take what he so Freely gave:
25
Who shall the Loss bemoan, or the Encrease?
For his own Glory every thing is done,
And he depends upon himself alone;
For Man to Question with the Deity,
Is to the last Degree, high Blasphemy:
The Hypocrite affects to be thought Wise,
To hide his Actions from observing Eyes;
He puts on Zeal, the safest, best Disguise.
What tho' the World's deceiv'd, Heaven cannot be,
Thin is the Veil of Man's Hypocrisie:
The darkest Plots, the Eye of Heaven does find,
Tho' lodg'd in the close Chambers of the Mind;
How then can Man escape his Wrathful Hand,
Who willfully Transgresses Heaven's Command?
How little cause has he of Sense to boast,
It proves his Ruin, tho' 'tis valu'd most;
Sense ill apply'd, will ever prove a Vice,
And over Sinful, is not over Wise:
Man does Mis-judge of Wisdom; only he
Is truly Wise that loves Integrity;
The rest are knowing Beasts, not a Degree,
By Sin debas'd, above Brutality.
26
Wou'dst thou find Peace, wou'dst thou from Pain be free,
Remove the Cause, leave thy Impiety?
If by Oppression thou hast wrong'd the Poor,
Tenfold, to make amends, thou shou'dst restore
To Angry Heaven, with Sacrifice repair,
And with a Contrite Heart prefer thy Pray'r;
Then may'st thou boldly hope again to see
A blooming Spring of fresh Prosperity;
No more shall these Afflictions wrack thy Mind,
Scarce the Remembrance shall be left behind;
Thy Winter like a Summer shall appear,
And prove the happier Season of the Year;
Belov'd of all, in Peace thou shalt possess
The last remains of Life in Happiness.
B' assur'd of this, who scorn thy Fortunes now,
Shall Flatter once again, and to thy Plenty bow:
Their Expectation, and their Hope shall fly
Like Transient Mists that Cloud the Azure Sky;
Like hope of Life to him that's Doom'd to Die.
Remove the Cause, leave thy Impiety?
If by Oppression thou hast wrong'd the Poor,
Tenfold, to make amends, thou shou'dst restore
To Angry Heaven, with Sacrifice repair,
And with a Contrite Heart prefer thy Pray'r;
Then may'st thou boldly hope again to see
A blooming Spring of fresh Prosperity;
No more shall these Afflictions wrack thy Mind,
Scarce the Remembrance shall be left behind;
Thy Winter like a Summer shall appear,
And prove the happier Season of the Year;
Belov'd of all, in Peace thou shalt possess
The last remains of Life in Happiness.
B' assur'd of this, who scorn thy Fortunes now,
Shall Flatter once again, and to thy Plenty bow:
Their Expectation, and their Hope shall fly
Like Transient Mists that Cloud the Azure Sky;
Like hope of Life to him that's Doom'd to Die.
Then spake the Uzzite, you are wond'rous Friends,
Whose borrow'd Light a feeble Lustre lends,
And when you Die, your Fame for Knowledge ends.
I know as well as you relate,
In Sense your equal, tho' deprest by Fate:
Why do you thus my Miseries deride?
Why vent the Venom of your secret Pride,
And 'stead of Comfort, thus Unfriendly Chide?
Shou'd God, at my Request, my Cause defend,
'Tis 'gainst your Nature to be Virtue's Friend;
You Judge by Circumstance, and outward Show,
And 'tis Success makes Man your Friend or Foe.
Whose borrow'd Light a feeble Lustre lends,
And when you Die, your Fame for Knowledge ends.
27
In Sense your equal, tho' deprest by Fate:
Why do you thus my Miseries deride?
Why vent the Venom of your secret Pride,
And 'stead of Comfort, thus Unfriendly Chide?
Shou'd God, at my Request, my Cause defend,
'Tis 'gainst your Nature to be Virtue's Friend;
You Judge by Circumstance, and outward Show,
And 'tis Success makes Man your Friend or Foe.
Once to have Flourish'd can no Favour win,
Riches are Goodness, Poverty's a Sin;
Proud of your Store, whilst you securely stand,
You scorn to lend a sinking Friend your Hand:
'Tis prosperous Villany that now bears Sway,
The Rich, tho' bad, the Vulgar still Obey:
But 'tis in vain they Plot, God's piercing Eye
Does soon detect their Vicious Policy.
The Judge gives Sentence, as 'tis first Decreed,
By him the Prisoner's not Condemn'd or Freed,
He Gravely fills the Bench as a State-Tool,
And spite of all his Law, is but a Fool;
Kings are no more than common Men to him,
The Beggar has with God a like Esteem:
Now this King Reigns, and does his Glory fill,
Proud to behold his Rival Monarch Kneel.
When the next Battle turns the Tott'ring Scales,
The Victor flies, the vanquish'd Side prevails:
The Orator no more delights his Audience,
Rob'd of his Graces and his Eloquence;
And Aged Statesman finds a want of Sense.
By Heavens Command even Kings descend their Thrones,
Strip'd of their Purple, and their shining Crowns.
Riches are Goodness, Poverty's a Sin;
Proud of your Store, whilst you securely stand,
You scorn to lend a sinking Friend your Hand:
'Tis prosperous Villany that now bears Sway,
The Rich, tho' bad, the Vulgar still Obey:
But 'tis in vain they Plot, God's piercing Eye
Does soon detect their Vicious Policy.
The Judge gives Sentence, as 'tis first Decreed,
By him the Prisoner's not Condemn'd or Freed,
He Gravely fills the Bench as a State-Tool,
And spite of all his Law, is but a Fool;
28
The Beggar has with God a like Esteem:
Now this King Reigns, and does his Glory fill,
Proud to behold his Rival Monarch Kneel.
When the next Battle turns the Tott'ring Scales,
The Victor flies, the vanquish'd Side prevails:
The Orator no more delights his Audience,
Rob'd of his Graces and his Eloquence;
And Aged Statesman finds a want of Sense.
By Heavens Command even Kings descend their Thrones,
Strip'd of their Purple, and their shining Crowns.
All this my self have seen as well as you,
What I have utter'd, Knowledge vouches true:
Believe not your Experience more than mine,
In Human Actions, or in Things Divine.
Truth is to you a Stranger, you devise
False Notions, Formal Tales, and Specious Lies,
For not one Word your Virtue Justifies:
Like Senseless Quacks, the Med'cines you apply
Heigtens, but cannot Ease the Malady,
And he that takes your Physick needs must die.
Wou'd you be thought my Friends, who thus advise;
I'll tell you how your Counsels I will prize;
For ever hold your Peace, and I shall think you Wise?
Advise you cannot, therefore ought to hear,
Bridle your Tongues, and lend a serious Ear.
How Impiously your Arguments are bent
Against all right to Judge the Innocent:
No more thus Wickedly for God dispute;
Fairly you cannot what I urge confute.
Who made you Judges of Integrity?
And how came you God's Substitutes to be?
Ye abject Wretches, how wou'd you appear,
Wou'd God the Secrets of your Hearts declare?
How wou'd you Tremble and Confounded stand,
If once you felt the Vengeance of his Hand?
Trod to your native Dirt, forsaken lie,
A dire Example to Posterity.
Forbear such Talk, with Patience hear me speak,
For 'tis but just I some Defence shou'd make;
And I will speak, since Truth directs my Tongue;
How can that Man offend who does no wrong?
Secure that what I offer shall be Just,
I will proceed, nor e'er my Fate distrust.
What I have utter'd, Knowledge vouches true:
Believe not your Experience more than mine,
In Human Actions, or in Things Divine.
Truth is to you a Stranger, you devise
False Notions, Formal Tales, and Specious Lies,
For not one Word your Virtue Justifies:
Like Senseless Quacks, the Med'cines you apply
Heigtens, but cannot Ease the Malady,
And he that takes your Physick needs must die.
29
I'll tell you how your Counsels I will prize;
For ever hold your Peace, and I shall think you Wise?
Advise you cannot, therefore ought to hear,
Bridle your Tongues, and lend a serious Ear.
How Impiously your Arguments are bent
Against all right to Judge the Innocent:
No more thus Wickedly for God dispute;
Fairly you cannot what I urge confute.
Who made you Judges of Integrity?
And how came you God's Substitutes to be?
Ye abject Wretches, how wou'd you appear,
Wou'd God the Secrets of your Hearts declare?
How wou'd you Tremble and Confounded stand,
If once you felt the Vengeance of his Hand?
Trod to your native Dirt, forsaken lie,
A dire Example to Posterity.
Forbear such Talk, with Patience hear me speak,
For 'tis but just I some Defence shou'd make;
And I will speak, since Truth directs my Tongue;
How can that Man offend who does no wrong?
Secure that what I offer shall be Just,
I will proceed, nor e'er my Fate distrust.
30
Why, why shou'd I despair, why tear my Hair?
Or take of future Life no farther Care?
Shou'd God destroy me, yet I will relie
Only on Him, when deep in Earth I lie,
And will proceed my self to Justifie,
He my Salvation is, Him I shall see
Deck'd in the Glory of his Majesty:
This is my Hope; but sure the Hypocrite
Shall never come before his Righteous Sight.
Hear me: For once I thought you Friends indeed;
Hear, if you can, my injur'd Virtue Plead:
Ready I stand, I wish my Cause was Try'd,
Assur'd I am I shall be Justify'd.
Come, who my Indictment reads? I will reply,
And, as a Martyr, unto Truth will die.
Or take of future Life no farther Care?
Shou'd God destroy me, yet I will relie
Only on Him, when deep in Earth I lie,
And will proceed my self to Justifie,
He my Salvation is, Him I shall see
Deck'd in the Glory of his Majesty:
This is my Hope; but sure the Hypocrite
Shall never come before his Righteous Sight.
Hear me: For once I thought you Friends indeed;
Hear, if you can, my injur'd Virtue Plead:
Ready I stand, I wish my Cause was Try'd,
Assur'd I am I shall be Justify'd.
Come, who my Indictment reads? I will reply,
And, as a Martyr, unto Truth will die.
Of Heaven Two Things I beg to ease my Pain,
Remove these Plagues, and make me whole again;
Let not thy dreadful Presence terrifie
So very much, not to admit Reply.
This granted, I am ready to defend
My Cause, and on my Innocence depend;
Produce my Charge: O! How have I Transgress'd!
What are the Sins that thus Polute my Breast?
Why all this Labour to undo a Wretch,
Already Faded like a wither'd Beach?
Remove these Plagues, and make me whole again;
Let not thy dreadful Presence terrifie
So very much, not to admit Reply.
This granted, I am ready to defend
My Cause, and on my Innocence depend;
31
What are the Sins that thus Polute my Breast?
Why all this Labour to undo a Wretch,
Already Faded like a wither'd Beach?
Of Woman Born, the Best and Wisest Man
In vain tires Art, to lengthen out his Span;
Like Flow'rs, we Bloom, smile at the Rising Sun,
But O! How quickly our short Task is done;
For at his Setting even our Race is run.
Suffer me then in Peace my Hour to live,
Cease for a little while, my Soul to grieve;
There is a time prefixt, when all must come,
And from the Judge of all, receive their Doom;
Till then I wou'd be Quiet, till thy Wrath is past,
And then, even then, wou'd beg to be the last:
Death never can be Brib'd, therefore wou'd I
Till that Hour comes, in Peace forgotten lie.
In vain tires Art, to lengthen out his Span;
Like Flow'rs, we Bloom, smile at the Rising Sun,
But O! How quickly our short Task is done;
For at his Setting even our Race is run.
Suffer me then in Peace my Hour to live,
Cease for a little while, my Soul to grieve;
There is a time prefixt, when all must come,
And from the Judge of all, receive their Doom;
Till then I wou'd be Quiet, till thy Wrath is past,
And then, even then, wou'd beg to be the last:
Death never can be Brib'd, therefore wou'd I
Till that Hour comes, in Peace forgotten lie.
Torn by the Roots, the lofty Mountains fall,
In their own Ruins find a Funeral;
As Softest Streams thro' Marble Quarries drive,
And by Degrees thro' Flints a passage rive;
So does the Hope of Man each Hour decay,
Security too often does it self betray;
All he forecasts, one Moment does destroy,
And turns to Fears his Flatt'ring Hopes of Joy:
In their own Ruins find a Funeral;
As Softest Streams thro' Marble Quarries drive,
And by Degrees thro' Flints a passage rive;
32
Security too often does it self betray;
All he forecasts, one Moment does destroy,
And turns to Fears his Flatt'ring Hopes of Joy:
Here for a while he Paus'd, when Theman's Prince
In bitter Terms arraigns his Innocence.
In bitter Terms arraigns his Innocence.
How can Discretion so misguide thy Tongue,
That thus thou ever argu'st in the wrong?
As unregarded thro' the Vaulted Skies,
The Wat'ry South in Noisy Tempest flies:
Just so the vain Expressions touch our Mind,
Nor any strong Impressions leave behind.
Respect to Heaven is now no more thy Care,
Nor dost thou seek thy Angry God with Prayer:
Art thou Coœval with this Frame of Earth,
Or had'st thou e'er the Hills were made thy Birth?
Has God his Secrets only show'd to thee,
To thee alone disclos'd the Mystery?
'Bove Twice thy Age I've seen, our Silver Hairs
Will almost treble thy short Lease of Years;
What hast thou seen, that is to us unknown?
Or else is Wisdom given to thee alone?
Thy secret Pride will fatal to thee prove,
Why dost thou slight these Overtures of Love?
Too Willful Wretch, all Deaf to Mercy's Cries,
Thou stop'st thy Ears, and shut'st thy Guilty Eyes;
Each Word, each Action, does produce a Crime,
And Mute in Sullen Silence do'st Blaspheme:
Who can be Righteous that is Born in Sin,
The troubled Fountain makes the Stream unclean?
When in his sight the Heavens imperfect seem,
And Saints themselves are capable of Blame;
How Loathsome then the Race of Man appears
Whose Numerous Sins out-vie the Countless Stars.
That thus thou ever argu'st in the wrong?
As unregarded thro' the Vaulted Skies,
The Wat'ry South in Noisy Tempest flies:
Just so the vain Expressions touch our Mind,
Nor any strong Impressions leave behind.
Respect to Heaven is now no more thy Care,
Nor dost thou seek thy Angry God with Prayer:
Art thou Coœval with this Frame of Earth,
Or had'st thou e'er the Hills were made thy Birth?
Has God his Secrets only show'd to thee,
To thee alone disclos'd the Mystery?
'Bove Twice thy Age I've seen, our Silver Hairs
Will almost treble thy short Lease of Years;
33
Or else is Wisdom given to thee alone?
Thy secret Pride will fatal to thee prove,
Why dost thou slight these Overtures of Love?
Too Willful Wretch, all Deaf to Mercy's Cries,
Thou stop'st thy Ears, and shut'st thy Guilty Eyes;
Each Word, each Action, does produce a Crime,
And Mute in Sullen Silence do'st Blaspheme:
Who can be Righteous that is Born in Sin,
The troubled Fountain makes the Stream unclean?
When in his sight the Heavens imperfect seem,
And Saints themselves are capable of Blame;
How Loathsome then the Race of Man appears
Whose Numerous Sins out-vie the Countless Stars.
O lend to what I speak a serious Ear,
And what I know, I'll Faithfully declare;
In Pain the Sinner drags a Hated Life,
Incumbred with Anxieties and Strife;
He knows his Days are but a slender Date,
Yet knows not when their Period's fix'd by Fate:
Even in Prosperity he dreads surprize,
And Fear is ever brooding in his Eyes;
His harden'd Soul does from Repentance fly,
Yet always thinks some sudden Danger nigh:
Trembling he seeks his Lawless Food, afraid
Lest ev'ry Moment he should be betray'd;
Trouble and Anguish his Companions are,
Which in his Breast foment Intestine War;
In Unfrequented Houses he resides,
And dreading Ruin, 'midst of Ruin hides.
And what I know, I'll Faithfully declare;
In Pain the Sinner drags a Hated Life,
Incumbred with Anxieties and Strife;
He knows his Days are but a slender Date,
Yet knows not when their Period's fix'd by Fate:
Even in Prosperity he dreads surprize,
And Fear is ever brooding in his Eyes;
34
Yet always thinks some sudden Danger nigh:
Trembling he seeks his Lawless Food, afraid
Lest ev'ry Moment he should be betray'd;
Trouble and Anguish his Companions are,
Which in his Breast foment Intestine War;
In Unfrequented Houses he resides,
And dreading Ruin, 'midst of Ruin hides.
Be not deceiv'd, nor trust in Vanity,
For on a Faithless Friend thou dost rely;
Tho' Green the Branch, it finds a swift decay,
And in its Dawn concludes its Promis'd Day:
So Unripe Fruits are from their Branches thrown,
And from their Stalks are new Born Blossoms blown;
For Fire shall Burn th'Assembly of th'Unjust,
Whom Bribes Corrupt to falsifie their Trust.
For on a Faithless Friend thou dost rely;
Tho' Green the Branch, it finds a swift decay,
And in its Dawn concludes its Promis'd Day:
So Unripe Fruits are from their Branches thrown,
And from their Stalks are new Born Blossoms blown;
For Fire shall Burn th'Assembly of th'Unjust,
Whom Bribes Corrupt to falsifie their Trust.
Then Job,—
All this before I've heard; what nothing new,
Still the Old Path of Folly you pursue?
Such Wretched Comforters Man never knew.
Why this Excess of Talk? O Obstinate!
Thy Words new Trouble to my Soul create;
How can'st thou take Delight to Plague thy Friend?
When will thy tiresome Reas'nings have an End?
Were I like you, such Answers I cou'd use,
With Unavailing Talk your Ears abuse;
And whilst I seem'd to Pity, I cou'd Smile,
And at your Sufferings unconcern'd, Revile.
This I cou'd do: But sure my Bleeding Heart
Wou'd in a Friends Affliction share its part:
My Words shou'd be like Balm to Heal your Grief,
And ev'ry Accent bring some kind Relief;
Yet gentlest Words are all mispent on me;
Nor Silence can asswage my Misery,
Even Company is tiresome to me now,
And Friendships self does out of Fashion grow:
For I am made to Loath my self I see,
And I abhor my own Deformity:
The Wicked at my Ruin Laugh, around they wait,
And grieve to find Destruction comes so late:
Impatiently they stand, with eager Eyes,
All ready to Devour the unhappy Prize:
With Peace and Plenty I have long been blest,
Still Storms arose to rob me of my Rest:
Like some Tall Pine that long on Ida stood,
The Pride and Glory of the Mighty Wood;
So did I stand, Respected and Ador'd,
And had Obedience from the Servile Crowd;
Till Heaven Conspir'd to shake my happy State,
And let me to the Worlds opprobrious Hate.
Now all at once Affliction rushes on;
Th'impetuous Torrent hurries me along:
Destruction on Destruction, Ruin on Ruins lie;
And Heaven on me pours its Artillery:
Vile Sackcloth on my Body I have spread,
And Ashes cover my dishonour'd Head:
My weeping Eyes supply a ready Flood;
Reflect they are, as they had Wept in Blood:
Yet still my own Sincerity I trust,
And tho' afflicted I am not Unjust:
O Earth! If thou art Conscious of my Guilt,
Reveal the Blood my impious Hands have spilt;
In vain, if Guilty, are my Pray'rs preferr'd,
The Ears of Mercy to such Pray'rs are barr'd.
The Sacred Records of the Holy Sky
Bear Witness with me of my Integrity,
Your base Reflections little move my Mind;
Unto Heavens Will my Thoughts are all resign'd.
Wou'd God allow, I wou'd my Cause defend,
And freely Plead with him as with a Friend:
In a few Years I must return to Earth,
A Tribute due to Nature, whence I took my Birth;
Thence no return is ever to be made,
From that irremiable dismal Shade.
Still the Old Path of Folly you pursue?
Such Wretched Comforters Man never knew.
35
Thy Words new Trouble to my Soul create;
How can'st thou take Delight to Plague thy Friend?
When will thy tiresome Reas'nings have an End?
Were I like you, such Answers I cou'd use,
With Unavailing Talk your Ears abuse;
And whilst I seem'd to Pity, I cou'd Smile,
And at your Sufferings unconcern'd, Revile.
This I cou'd do: But sure my Bleeding Heart
Wou'd in a Friends Affliction share its part:
My Words shou'd be like Balm to Heal your Grief,
And ev'ry Accent bring some kind Relief;
Yet gentlest Words are all mispent on me;
Nor Silence can asswage my Misery,
Even Company is tiresome to me now,
And Friendships self does out of Fashion grow:
For I am made to Loath my self I see,
And I abhor my own Deformity:
The Wicked at my Ruin Laugh, around they wait,
And grieve to find Destruction comes so late:
Impatiently they stand, with eager Eyes,
All ready to Devour the unhappy Prize:
36
Still Storms arose to rob me of my Rest:
Like some Tall Pine that long on Ida stood,
The Pride and Glory of the Mighty Wood;
So did I stand, Respected and Ador'd,
And had Obedience from the Servile Crowd;
Till Heaven Conspir'd to shake my happy State,
And let me to the Worlds opprobrious Hate.
Now all at once Affliction rushes on;
Th'impetuous Torrent hurries me along:
Destruction on Destruction, Ruin on Ruins lie;
And Heaven on me pours its Artillery:
Vile Sackcloth on my Body I have spread,
And Ashes cover my dishonour'd Head:
My weeping Eyes supply a ready Flood;
Reflect they are, as they had Wept in Blood:
Yet still my own Sincerity I trust,
And tho' afflicted I am not Unjust:
O Earth! If thou art Conscious of my Guilt,
Reveal the Blood my impious Hands have spilt;
In vain, if Guilty, are my Pray'rs preferr'd,
The Ears of Mercy to such Pray'rs are barr'd.
37
Bear Witness with me of my Integrity,
Your base Reflections little move my Mind;
Unto Heavens Will my Thoughts are all resign'd.
Wou'd God allow, I wou'd my Cause defend,
And freely Plead with him as with a Friend:
In a few Years I must return to Earth,
A Tribute due to Nature, whence I took my Birth;
Thence no return is ever to be made,
From that irremiable dismal Shade.
My Snuff of Life, lends but a Sickly Light,
Th'aspiring Flame foretells the Eternal Night;
Yet in my utmost Pangs, your Scorn is more
Than all the Miseries I felt before.
O! I'm become the publick Scorn and Hate,
And as their common Jest, am Pointed at;
My Eyes are blind with Weeping, pale my Face,
I seem the Shadow now of what I was.
The Just may wonder at my sudden Fall,
And Pity me, since useless Pity's all:
Yet my Example shall prevailing be,
And they like me shall hate Hypocrisie.
The Upright in his Innocence shall Trust,
And Hell shall ne'er prevail against the Just.
Th'aspiring Flame foretells the Eternal Night;
Yet in my utmost Pangs, your Scorn is more
Than all the Miseries I felt before.
O! I'm become the publick Scorn and Hate,
And as their common Jest, am Pointed at;
My Eyes are blind with Weeping, pale my Face,
I seem the Shadow now of what I was.
The Just may wonder at my sudden Fall,
And Pity me, since useless Pity's all:
Yet my Example shall prevailing be,
And they like me shall hate Hypocrisie.
38
And Hell shall ne'er prevail against the Just.
O! Then forbear, cease to Afflict your Friend,
At length let your unjust Reproaches end:
Strangers themselves wou'd Blush to use me so,
But a false Friend is ever the worst Foe.
If I have Sin'd, who can the Crime attone?
The Punishment has fall'n on me alone.
How can you basely thus Insult my Fate,
And proudly Triumph o'er my unhappy State:
Of Heaven forsaken, and with Woes opprest,
I never can obtain a Moments Rest:
I tell my Sorrows, and reveal my Grief,
But O! In vain I beg a kind Relief;
I'm fast, I strive in vain to shun the Snare,
No way to break my Fetters does appear;
Strip'd of my Glory, I am Naked left,
Of all my Pompous Ornaments bereft:
Hope like a Shadow seems, but hardly seen,
And straight it Wings its hasty flight again.
Th'avenging Ministers of Heaven are nigh,
And Frowning treat me as an Enemy:
Where-e'er I turn my Eyes, Destruction stands,
And Smiles to find her Prey so near her Hands.
My Brothers from my sudden Ruin fly,
And Friends estrang'd despise my Misery.
At length let your unjust Reproaches end:
Strangers themselves wou'd Blush to use me so,
But a false Friend is ever the worst Foe.
If I have Sin'd, who can the Crime attone?
The Punishment has fall'n on me alone.
How can you basely thus Insult my Fate,
And proudly Triumph o'er my unhappy State:
Of Heaven forsaken, and with Woes opprest,
I never can obtain a Moments Rest:
I tell my Sorrows, and reveal my Grief,
But O! In vain I beg a kind Relief;
I'm fast, I strive in vain to shun the Snare,
No way to break my Fetters does appear;
Strip'd of my Glory, I am Naked left,
Of all my Pompous Ornaments bereft:
Hope like a Shadow seems, but hardly seen,
And straight it Wings its hasty flight again.
Th'avenging Ministers of Heaven are nigh,
And Frowning treat me as an Enemy:
39
And Smiles to find her Prey so near her Hands.
My Brothers from my sudden Ruin fly,
And Friends estrang'd despise my Misery.
O! I had drawn a Scheme,—but Fate breaks in,
And makes me leave in hast the imperfect Scene:
My Hour draws nigh, when I in Peace shall go
Down to the gloomy Wilderness below;
Where vile Corruption and base Reptiles breed,
And on their Fellow Creatures daily feed:
For they, as well as Man, receive their Birth
From One Original, all Fruitful Earth;
There is the end of Hope, in that Obscurity,
Worms and Mankind together blended lie.
And makes me leave in hast the imperfect Scene:
My Hour draws nigh, when I in Peace shall go
Down to the gloomy Wilderness below;
Where vile Corruption and base Reptiles breed,
And on their Fellow Creatures daily feed:
For they, as well as Man, receive their Birth
From One Original, all Fruitful Earth;
There is the end of Hope, in that Obscurity,
Worms and Mankind together blended lie.
But yet ------
I know my Saviour Lives, whom I shall see
At the last Day, in all His Majesty:
On Earth I shall behold him and appear
In the same Robe of Flesh, which now I wear:
And tho' devouring Worms this Garb consume,
Whilst I lie Moulding in the silent Tomb;
Yet shall these Eyes behold him reconcil'd
To me, Indulgent, Merciful and Kind.
Cease to Afflict me, since my Cause is just;
Nor to your own Opinions safely trust;
For to your Sorrow you at last shall know,
Justice is sure, tho' late she gives the Blow.
I know my Saviour Lives, whom I shall see
At the last Day, in all His Majesty:
On Earth I shall behold him and appear
In the same Robe of Flesh, which now I wear:
And tho' devouring Worms this Garb consume,
Whilst I lie Moulding in the silent Tomb;
40
To me, Indulgent, Merciful and Kind.
Cease to Afflict me, since my Cause is just;
Nor to your own Opinions safely trust;
For to your Sorrow you at last shall know,
Justice is sure, tho' late she gives the Blow.
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