Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thus Iob his ill-defended Cause adjournes,
And silence lends free liberty of turnes,
To his unjust Accusers, whose bad cause
Hath left them grounded in too large a pause,
Whereat Elihu (a young stander-by,)
Whose modest eares, upon their long reply
Did wait, his angry silence did awake,
And (craving pardon for his Youth) bespake.

Young Standers-by doe oftentimes see more
Than elder Gamesters: Y'are to blame all foure:
T'ones cause is bad, but with good proofs befriended,
The others just and good, but ill defended:
Though reason makes the man, Heaven makes him wise,
Wisdome in greatest Clerks not alway lyes:
Then let your silence give me leave to spend
My judgement, whilst your heedfull eares attend.
I have not heard, alone, but still expected
To heare what more your spleenes might have objected
Against your wofull Friend, but I have found
Your reasons built upon a sandy ground.
Flourish no Flags of Conquest: Vnderstand,
That he's afflicted by th'Almighties hand:

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He hath not fail'd to crosse your accusations;
Yet I (though not with your foule exprobations)
Will crosse him too. I'me full, and I must speake,
Or like unvented vessels, I must breake;
And with my tongue, my heart will be reliev'd,
That swells, with what my patience hath conceiv'd:
Be none offended, for my lips shall tread
That ground (without respect) as Truth shall lead;
God hates a flattering language: then how can I
Vnliable to danger, flatter any?

Now, Job, to thee I speake, O, let my Errant
Be welcome to thine cares, for truth's my warrant
They are no slender trifles that I treat,
But things digested with the sacred heat
Of an inspired knowledge; 'Tis no rash
Discharge of wrath, nor wits conceited flash;
I'le speake, and heare thee speake as free, for I
Will take no vantage of thy Misery.

Thy tongue did challenge to maintaine thy case
With God, if he would veile his glorious face:
Be I the man (though clad with clay and dust,
And mortall like thy selfe) that takes the trust
To represent his Person: Thou dost terme
Thy selfe most just, and boldly dost affirme,
That Heaven afflicts thy soul without a reason.
Ah Iob! these very words (alone) are treason
Against th'Almighties will: Thou oughtest rather
Submit thy passion to him, as thy Father,
Than plead with him, as with thy Peere. Is he
Bound to reveale his secret Will to thee?
God speaketh oft to man, not understood,
Sometimes in dreames, at other times thinkes good
To thunder Iudgement in his drowzy eare;
Sometimes, with hard afflictions scourge, doth teare

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His wounded soule, which may at length give ease
(Like sharper Physicke) to his foule Disease:
But if (like pleasing Iulips) he afford
The meeke Expounders of his sacred Word,
With sweet perswasions to recure his griefe,
How can his sorrowes wish more faire Reliefe?
Ah, then his body shall wax young and bright;
Heavens face that scorcht before, shall now delight,
His tongue with Triumph, shall confesse to men,
I was a Leper, but am cleare agen.
Thus, thus that Spring of Mercy oftentimes
Doth speak to man, that man may speak his crimes?
Consider, Iob; my words with judgement weigh;
Which done (if thou hast ought) then boldly say;
If otherwise, shame not to hold thy peace,
And let thy wisedome with my words encrease.

And you, you Wisemen that are silent here,
Vouchsafe to lend my lips your ripened eare,
Let's call a parly, and the cause decide;
For Iob pleads guiltlesse, and would faine be try'd;
Yet hath his boldnesse term'd himselfe upright,
And tax't th'Almighty for not doing right;
His Innocence with Heaven doth he plead,
And that unjustly he was punished:
O Purity by Impudence suborn'd!
He scorn'd his Maker, and is justly scorn'd:
Farre be it from the heart of man, that He
Who is all Iustice, yet unjust should be.
Each one shall reape the harvest he hath sowne,
His meed shall measure what his hands hath done?
Who is't can claim the Worlds great Soveraignty?
Who rais'd the Rafters of the Heavens, but He?
If God should breathe on man, or take away
The breath he gave him, what were man but Clay?

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O, let thy heart, th'unbridled tongue conuince!
Say; Dare thy lips defame an earthly Prince?
How darst thou then maligne the King of Kings,
To whom great Princes are but poorest things?
He kicks down kingdoms, spurns th'emperial crown
And with his blast, puffes mighty Monarchs down.
'Tis vaine to strive with him, and if he strike,
Our part's to beare, not fondly to mislike,
(Misconstruing the nature of his drift)
But husband his corrections to our thrift.
If he afflict, our best is to implore
His Blessing with his Rod, and sin no more.
What if our torments passe the bounds of measure?
It unbefits our wils, to stint his pleasure,
Iudge then, and let th'impartiall world advise,
How farre (poore Job) thy judgement is from wise:
Nor are these speeches kindled with the fire
Of a distempred spleene, but with desire
T'inrich thy wisdome, lest thy fury tye
Presumption to thy rash infirmity.

Meditat. 16.

For mortals, to be borne, waxe old, and dye,
Lyes not in Will, but bare Necessity,
Common to beasts, which in the selfe degree,
Hold by the selfe-same Patient, even as we:
But to be wise is a diviner action
Of the discursive Soule, a pure abstraction
Of all her powers, united in the Will,
Ayming at Good, rejecting what is Ill:

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It is an Influence of inspired breath,
Vnpurchased by birth, unlost by death,
Entail'd to no man, no, not free to all,
Yet gently answers to the eager cal
Of those, that with inflam'd affections seeke,
Respecting tender youth and age alike;
In depth of dayes, her spirit not alway lyes,
Yeeres make man Old, but heaven returnes him, Wise;
Youths Innocence, nor riper ages strength
Can challenge her as due; (Desired) length
Of dayes, produced to decrepit yeeres,
Fill'd with experience, and grizly hayres,
Can claime no right; th'Almighty ne're engages
His gifts to times, nor is he bound to Ages;
His quickning Spirit, to sucklings oft reveales,
What to their doting Grandsires he conceales,
The vertue of his breath can unbenumme
The frozen lips and strike the speaker dumme:
Who put that moving power into his tongue,
Whose lips did right the chast Susanna's wrong,
Vpon her wanton false Accusers death?
What secret fire inflam'd that fainting breath
That blasted Pharo? Or those ruder tongues,
That school'd the faithlesse Prophet for the wrongs
He did to sacred Iustice? matters not
How sleight the meane be in it selfe, or what
In our esteemes, so wisedome be the message;
Embassadours are worthied in th'Embassage:
God sowes his harvest to his best increase,
And glorifies himselfe how e're he please.

Lord, if thou wilt, (for what is hard to thee?)
I may a Factour for thy glory bee,
Then grant that (like a faithfull servant) I
May render backe thy stocke with Vsury.