Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Said Bildad then, When will yee bring to end
The speeches whereabout ye so contend?
Waigh eithers words, lest ignorant confusion
Debarre them of their purposed conclusion:
We came to comfort, fits it then that wee
Be thought as beasts, or fooles accounted bee?
But thou, Iob, (like a madman) would'st thou force
God, to desist his order, and set course
Of Iustice? shall the wicked, for thy sake
(That would'st not taste of evill) in good partake?
No, no, his Lampe shall blaze, and dye, his strength
Shall faile, and shall confound it selfe, at length
He shall be hampred with close hidden snares,
And dog'd, where e're he starts, with troops of fears;
Hunger shall bite, destruction shall attend him,
His skin shall rot, the worst of deaths shal end him:
His feare, shall bee a thousand linkt together,
His branch above, his roote beneath shall wither,
His name shall sleepe in dust, in dust decay,
Odious to all, by all men chas't away,
No Son shall keepe alive his House, his Name,
And none shall thrive, that can alliance clame,

225

The after-age shall stand amaz'd, to heare
His fall, and they that see't, shall shake for feare:
Thus stands the state of him that doth amisse,
And (Iob) what other is thy case, then this?

But Job reply'd, how long, (as with sharp swords)
Will ye torment me, with your pointed words?
How often have your biting tongues defam'd
My simple Innocence, and yet unsham'd?
Had I deserv'd these plagues, yet let my griefe
Expresse it selfe, though it find no reliefe;
But if you needs must weare your tongues upon me
Know, 'Tis the hand of God hath overthrowne me;
I roare, unheard; his hand will not release me;
The more I grieve, the more my griefs oppress me,
He hath despoyl'd my joyes, and goes about
(My branches being lopt) to stroy the Root;
His plagues, like souldiers trench within my bones
My friends, my kinred flye me all at once,
My neighbors, my familiars have forgone me,
My houshold stares, with strangers eyes, upon me:
I call my servant, but his lips are dumbe,
I humbly begg his helpe, but hee'l not come:
My own wife loaths my breath though I did make
My solemne suit, for our dead childrens sake:
The poor, whose wants I have supply'd, despise me,
And he that liv'd within my brest, denyes me:
My bones are hide-bound, there cannot be found
One piece of skin, (vnlesse my gums) that's sound.
Alas! complaints are barren shadowes, to
Expresse, or cure the substance of my woe.
Have pity, (oh my friends) have pitty on me,
'Tis your Gods hand and mine, that lyes upon me,
Vexe me no more. O let your anger be
(If I have wrong'd you) calm'd with what yee see;

226

O! that my speeches were ingraven, then,
In Marble Tablets, with an yron Pen:
For sure I am, that my Redeemer lives,
And though pale death consume my flesh, and gives
My Carkas to the wormes yet am I sure,
Clad with this self-same flesh (but made more pure)
I shall behold His glory; These sad eyes
Shall see his Face, how-e're my body lyes
Mouldred in dust; These fleshly eyes, that doe
Behold these Sores, shall see my Maker too.
Vnequall hearers of unequall griefe,
Y'are all ingag'd to the selfe-same beliefe;
Know there's a Iudge, whose voyce will be as free,
To judge your words, as you have judged me.

Said Zophar then, I purpos'd to refraine
From speaking, but thou mov'st me backe againe:
For having heard thy haughty spirit breake
Such hasty termes, my spirit bids me speake:

Hath not the change of Ages, and of Climes,
Taught us, as we shall our succeeding times,
How vain's the triumph, and how short the blaze,
Wherein the wicked sweeten out their dayes?
Though for a while his Palmes of glory flourish,
Yet, in conclusion they grow sere, and perish:
His life is like a Dreame, that passes o're,
The eye that saw him, ne're shall see him more:
The Sonne shall flattter, whom the Syre opprest,
And (poore) he shall returne, what he did wrest;
He shall be bayted with the sinnes, that have
So smil'd upon his Child-hood, to his Grave;
His plenty (purchas't by oppression) shall
Be honey, tasted but digested, Gall;
It shall not blesse him with prolonged stay,
But evilly come, it soone shall passe away;

227

The Man, whose griping hath the poore opprest,
Shall neither thrive in state, nor yet find rest
In soule, nought of his fulnesse shall remaine,
His greedy Heire shall long expect in vaine;
Soak't with extorted plenty, others shall
Squeeze him, and leave him dispossest of all;
And when his joyes doe in their height abound,
Vengeance shall strike him groaning, to the ground
If Swords forbeare to wound him, Arrowes shall,
Returning forth, anoynted with his Gall;
No shade shall hide him, and an unblowne Fyer
Shall burne both him and his. Heav'n, like a Cryer
Shal blaze his shame, and Earth shall stand his foe,
His wandring Children shall no dwelling know;
Behold the mans estate, whom God denyes,
Behold thine owne, pourtraicted to thine Eyes.