University of Virginia Library

Chap. 19.

How long, said Iob, will you with bitter words
Thus wound my Soule? your tongues more sharpe then swords,
Ten times have you aspersions on me throwne:
Your selves, as Strangers, without blushing showne.
If I have sinn'd, my Sinnes with me remaine:
And I alone the punishment sustaine.
It is inhumane crueltie in you
Thus to insult; and his reproach pursue
Whom Gods owne hand hath cast unto the ground:
And in a Labyrinth of Sorrow wound.
Vnheard are my Complaints: my cries the wind
Drives through the aire: my wrongs no Judgement find.
God, with besieging Troopes, prevents my flight:
And folds my paths in shades more darke then night.
Hath stript me of my Glory; my Renowne
Eclips'd: and from my Temples torne my Crowne.
On every side destroy'd; trod under foot:
I, as a plant, am puld up by the Root.
His indignation like a furnace glowes
Who, as a foe at me his lightning throwes.
All his assembled Plagues at once devoure:
And round about my tents incampe their Power.
My Mothers Sonnes desert me: left alone
By my Familiars; by my Friends unknowne.
My Kindred faile me: these alone depend
On fortunes smiles; the wretched finds no friend.
Those of my Family their Master slight:
Growne despicable in my hand-maids sight.
I of my churlish servants am unheard:
My sufferings, nor Intreaties, they regard.
My Wife neglects me; though desir'd to take
Some pitie on me, for our Childrens sake.
By idle Boyes, and Idiots vilifi'd:
VVho me, and my Calamities deride.
My Intimates farre from my sight remove:
Those, whom I favor'd most, ungratefull prove.
My skin cleaves to my Bones: of this remaines
No part entire, but what my teeth containes.
Oh my hard-hearted friends! take some remorse
Of him, whom God hath made a Living Corse.
VVill you with God in my afflictions joyne?
VVil't not suffice that I in Torments pine?
Oh that the words I speake were registred
VVrit in a Booke, for ever to be read!
Or that the tenor of my just complaint
Were sculpt with steele on Rocks of Adamant!
For my Redeemer lives: I know he shall
Descend to Earth, and man to Judgement call.
Though wormes devoure me, though I turne to mold;
Yet in my flesh I shall his face behold.
I from my marble Monument shall rise
Againe entire, and see him with these Eyes:
Though sterne diseases now consume my Reines;
And drinke the blood out of my shrivel'd veines.
T'were better said: why should we persecute
Our friend; whose cause is solid at the Roote?
Oh feare the sword; for punishments succeed
Our Trespasses; and crueltie must bleed.