The grand Tryal :: :: University of Virginia Library

The grand Tryal

or, Poetical Exercitations upon the book of Job. Wherein, Suitable to each Text of that sacred Book, a modest Explanation, and Continuation of the several Discourses contained in it, is attempted by William Clark

Clarke, William (fl. 1684-1688)

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VIII.

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XI.

XII.

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XV.

III.

XVI.

XVII.

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XIX.

XX.

Cap. XX.

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XXX.

XXXI.

IV.

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XXXVII.

XXXVIII.

XXXIX.

XL.

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XLII.

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152

Cap. XX.

1. Then answered Zophar, the Naamathite, and said.

As one at Bar is to be pitied,
Who having well and eloquently plead
His innocence, and made the same appear
By evidence, as Sun at noon-tide, clear:
Yet after all, let him do what he can,
This friendlesse Creature, this unhappy man
Must be condemn'd: he must to Gibbit go,
Because the partial Judge will have it so.
This is this good-mans case: for all this time,
As one Arraign'd for an atrocious Crime,
He has by force of reason laboured
To purge himself, and for that end has made
Ample confession of his Faith, yet all
These reasons cannot with his friends prevail,
They still esteem him guilty, and maintain
(However of injustice he complain)
That he had grossely in his life provok't
His God to wrath, though cunningly he cloak't
His murdred sins, with such a specious vail
Of Piety, and World-deceiving zeal,
He closely kep't those murmuring faults conceal'd,
From sight of men, yet now they were reveal'd.
For God at length had heard their shameful cry,
And by his punishment did testify,
How much he did abhor hypocrisie.
Let us observe then here with how great heat,
Zophar the words doth faithfully repeat,
Which Eliphaz himself, and Bildad too
Had spoke already, yet this wise man now,
In his old strain will lisp them out once more,
As if they never had been spoke before.

2. Therefore do my thoughts cause me to answer, and for this I make haste.

When first, says he, fame to our ears did bring
The dismal news of thy sad suffering,
When of thy many losses we did hear,
No men could be more troubled then we were:
We did thy griefs as heavilie bemoan,
As if thy losses had been all our own:
Nor could we in our troubled minds have peace,
When men inform'd us of thy woful case,
Until we see thy self, and so forsook
All that was dear to us, and undertook
A tedious journey to this place, that so
We might perform, what every man doth owe
To real friendship: that we might condole
Thy sufferings, and from our very soul
Lament with thee, as one, for whom we still
Bore great respect (think of us what thou will)

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Therefore with more then ordinary speed;
We hasted hither, not that we might feed
Our eyes with such a woful spectacle,
As now alace we do behold, or fill
The appetites of envy, and revenge,
With observations on so sad a change.
No we come hither only to declare,
That as thy friends we mean't to bear a share
In thy afflictions, and so thou didst see,
Seven days we sat in complaisance with thee,
With Garments rent, and ashes on our Head,
Not speaking word more then we had been dead.
We beat our breasts, we bow'd, we sigh'd, and weep't,
And with thy sorrows a true cadence kep't.
We had resolv'd on silence.
But when we heard thee with great violence,
Exclaim against the works of Providence:
When we did hear thee bitterly arraign
The Justice of our God once, and again;
When with great fury thou didst execr at
The hour, that gave thee Birth, and with such heat
Pursue thy foolish wishes; as if he,
Who out of meanest Dust Created thee,
Who By his powerful Breath did make thee live,
Who did to thee, wealth, honours, issue give,
Were still oblig'd to keep thee in that state,
And had no freedom to eradicate
Thee, and thy race, as well, as other men,
Who surely, (were it lawful to complain)
Could in as sad, and mournful tone declare,
How they did once live, and what now they are.
When we did hear thee, with such impudence,
At all occasions plead thy innocence,
As if our God had been unjust, indeed
We might ha' fear'd to ha' been punished
As well as thou, if we had held our peace,
And not maintain'd his Justice in the case.
For who I pray could such discourses hear,
And after all from answering forbear?
On this account we've spoke, and spoke again,
And for the love we bear to thee, would fain
Reclaim thee from thy errors, but alace
I fear 'tis all in vain: we do expresse
Our selves, as men, that really do fear
Their God, in all our words, and do appear
To be thy friends, but hitherto we see
There's no convincing such a man, as thee.
For it appears that thou art obstinate
In error, and with all thy soul dost hate
To be reformed: esteeming none thy friend,
Who in discourse will be so free, and kind,
As tell thee of thy faults, and let thee see,
How many men have been as well as thee
Oppress'd in spirit, and in body too,

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And yet have never kep't so much adoe,
As thou hast done in all their sufferings,
Nor us'd so many sinful murmurings
Against their Maker: not to speak of us,
Thy friends, whom thou dost openly abuse.
For I've observ'd, friend, that when Eliphaz
Did learn'dly speak, thou told him, in his face,
He did not understand so much as thou
Did know of Gods great works: when Bildad too
Express'd his mind in golden Eloquence,
And truly spoke, with as much deference
To thy condition, as men did of late,
When thou didst triumph in thy prosprous state,
Thou said his tale had formerly been told,
And, so on what he spoke, thou laid no hold,
For he knew nothing, but to rail, and scold.
As for my self, however I did speak,
Thou told me all my arguments were weak.
For my part therefore, seing 'twas in vain
To speak, I was resolved to abstain
From further talking, but that now I see
Thou'rt pleas'd of late forsooth to challenge me,
As one who has injur'd thee, hence I find
My self oblig'd again to speak my mind.
My thoughts are numerous, and my brimful heart
Will burst, if I the same do not impart,
In words, for which those numerous thoughts do call,
And therefore I'm constrain'd to utter all
I think with freedom, and I must make haste
To speak too, for this speech shall be the last
That I shall use to thee: hear me and then
Thou shalt have no more reason to complain
Of my discourse; let thy two other friends,
(As they most learn'dly can expresse their minds)
Continue to expostulate with thee,
Thou shalt hear no more arguing from me.

3. I have heard the check of my reproach, and the spirit of my understanding causeth me to answer.

Allow me then, my friend, to vindicat
My self from those aspersions of late
Thou'rt pleas'd to throw upon me: for I'm touch'd,
To hear my self so frequently reproach'd,
Even in my face: what man will be so us'd,
And hold his peace, I must then be excus'd,
If I make answer to thy late Oration,
Reflecting so much on my reputation.
Why then, my friend, were I as much a slave
To passion, as alace I do perceive
Thou art: should I give vent to wrath as thou
Hast all this time done, without more adoe,
I'd fall a railing on thee, all my words
Should be like pointed knives, or shearing swords,
My Tongue I'd with such acrimony whet,
Stare with my Eyes, and in such order set
My Teeth against thee, and with clutched Fist,
(Whilst in my burning fury I persist)

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To menace thee so thunder out my wrath
As should make thee, I doubt wish more for Death
Than yet th'hast done: I'd so belabour thee
With whips of speech as thou shouldst quicklie see
Thy foolish error in provoking me.
I would so threaten terror, and revenge
As I suppose, would make thy colours change
For all thy courage: I'd so tartly speak,
As would make all thy joints and sinews quake.
But God forbid that I should be so mad,
As to practise such an unlawful trade:
That I should to my passion give such vent,
Of which hereafter I'd no doubt repent:
No, my good friend, indeed thou dost mistake
If thou believe that yet I am so weak:
No, thou shalt hear me, with great calmness speak.
For since thou hast reproach'd me to my face,
I cannot sure in honour, hold my peace,
But must make answer to what thou hast said,
Though after all indeed I am afraid
I'le have not better success than before,
Only since I intend to speak no more,
Hear me but for some time with patience,
And then descant upon thy innocence,
Even as thou wilt; for seriouslie I shall
In a few mild Expressions, sum up all
What I intend to speak: so I have done
And then if thou think'st fit, I shall be gone.

4. Knowest thou not this of old, since man was placed upon earth.

I doubt not, friend, but thou art fully read
In Naturals, and hast much laboured
To know the real true Origination,
Of all the glorious work of the Creation.
I also know by reading History,
Thou hast great knowledge of antiquity;
Whence I conclude sure thou dost understand,
How that, since with a high and mighty hand,
The King of Heavens did first the Earth Create,
And in its full possession enstate
That ungrate thing call'd Man.—

5. That the triumph of the wicked is short, and the joy of the hypocrite is but for a moment.

Since that time sure, thou can'st not chuse but know
How God Almighty brings the wicked low.
For that accursed man, who doth despise
His great Creator, though in wealth he rise
Above his neighbours, and in honours sphere,
A Star o'th' greatest magnitude appear.
Though like a tall Oak, he doth overtop,
The lower shrubs o'th' World, and in his hope,
Devours whole Kingdoms, Cities, Common-weals,
States, Empires, Districts, or what ever else,
May bring him profit, honour, and delite,
And answer his voracious appetite;
Although he triumphs in the spoiles of those,
Whose riches only make great men their foes,
And seizes on all that unhappy ground,

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(Belong to whom it will) where can be found
That Idol of the World, which men call Gold:
To purchase which, that Creature will make bold,
To swim through seas of blood, and venture all,
For what wars, Nerves, and Sinews he doth call.
Yet are his triumphs all but empty shows
And all his bloody purchases (God knows)
Of which that Heavens-contemning fool doth boast
Are scarce well setled, when they're wholly lost.
His joys do only for a moment last,
And when his glorious days are overpast,
And troubles to his former joys succeed,
What miserable life shall that man lead?
Each moment haunted by the memory,
Of his few years spent in prosperity,
Which galls him more then he had never seen
Those whiffling days; nor in his life had been
Above the rank of those, who meanly beg,
Along the high ways, and will make a leg,
For a poor farthing, for its own'd by all
That he, who for his pride of old did fall
From that great share of heavenly happinesse,
Which, whilst he fear'd his God, he did possesse,
Is now more tortur'd by the memory,
Of his so poorly lost felicity,
Then he had ne'r those higher Regions known,
Or seen the splendour of the heavenly Throne,
But had been still in horrid darknesse bred,
And from his first Creation Billeted,
I'th' Bowels of the Earth, where, for his pride,
He's now condemn'd for ever to reside.

6. Though his excellency mount up to the heavens, and his head reacheth unto the clouds.

That man I say, then who doth God despise,
Although in wealth, and honour he Should rise
Above all others, and in hight of pride,
Should undervalue all the world beside,

7. Yet he shall perish for ever, like his own dung, they who have seen him shall say where is he?

Yet shall that man so high and excellent,
Be look'd upon but as the Excrement
Of mankind: all his splendid acts shall dy
His Fame in dark oblivion shall ly,
Fetter'd, and speechlesse, to Eternity.
Those who have seen his flatt'rers to him bow,
Shall then demand, where is this gallant now?

8. He shall fly away as a dream, and shall not be found, yea, he shall be chased away as a vision of the night.

For he shall quickly vanish, like a dream,
No Antiquary shall find out his name.
That Meteor shall soon passe out of sight,
As doth an Ignis fatuus in the night.

9. They also who saw him, shall see him no more, neither shall his place any more behold him.

The eye which see him with the morning rise,
Shall not perceive him, when the evening skies
Approach the Earth: those glorious Palaces,
In which he thought he fully did possesse
All that he could desire, shall then appear
As dreadful monuments, serving to declare
What once he was, that from these topicks all,
May well conclude the greatnesse of his fall,

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10. His children shall seek to please the poor, and his hands shall restore their goods

Now after he is fall'n, pray let us see,
What will the state of this poor Creature be?
It shall be low, it shall be poor indeed,
His Children shall from Beggars beg their Bread,
And from their Fathers Slaves compassion plead.

11. His bones are full of the sins of his youth, which shall ly down with him in the dust.

Then for his Person (pity him who will)
He soon becomes a horrid spectacle,
His Flesh is larded with his youthful sins,
And in his vigrous years, old age begins
To seize upon him, dreadful fits o'th' Stone,
Reliques of Pox, and pains of Gout annon,
Begin their work, and take down piece, by piece,
That goodly Fabrick, which in former days
Seem'd to enjoy a lease of many years:
But now this stately Body soon appears.
Like an old tottering weather-beaten house,
With windows crack'd, and walls so ruinous,
As they can scarce support the falling roof,
So that the boldest Artist stands aloof,
And e'r he to repair it doth begin,
He props't without, and standarts it within,
Yet 'spite of those supporters, after all,
This aged building to the ground doth fall.
So this poor wretch now paralytick grown,
With tottering head, and joynts all overflow'n,
With Goutish humours, teeth all hanging loose
Within their sockets,: a distilling Nose,
Eyes full of brackish liquor: shoulders stooping,
Under-lip in a constant spittle drooping:
Lungs with a sharp, and wasting cough oppress't,
Which doth bereave him of his nightly rest,
Pump'd up the Wind-pipes, with a raging froath,
In lobs, and parcels issuing from his mouth.
His Skin with Boils, and Ulcers diaper'd,
(Of his lascivious sports the sad reward)
His Stomach uselesse, and his Bowels weary
With th'torture of a constant disentery.
His legs now rotting to the Bones apace,
In a consuming Eresypelas:
Som' doz'n issues, in his Shoulders, Arms,
And Neck appearing, like so many Charms,
And spels upon his Body: all his Veins
Choak'd with a slymy pituite, his Reins
Buried in sand, which squandring every where,
Along the Channels of each ureter,
Mix'd with some rugged peebles, doth so stop
Those Conduits in their Course, that drop, by drop,
The damm'd up Urine issues with such pain,
As he would rather wish he could retain
It in his Body, then thus let it go,
With such infernal agony, although
Barr'd in its Current, it should upwards rise,
And force a passage at his very Eyes,
Mouth, Nose, or Ears, rather then tolerat,

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His Vessels to be so excoriat
With those sharp stones, as from that narrow spout,
Moe drops of blood than Urine issue out.
With hands by drunken excesse in his youth,
So trembling, that they scarce can to his mouth
Convey his food: such swellings in his feet,
As, when in cut out Shooes he walks in Street,
Amongst the busie croud he dars not go,
Lest some perhaps might tread upon his toe.
But with great leasure by shop-doors doth crawl,
Contemn'd, abhorr'd, and pointed at by all;
Where on he dwindles in great wrath, and chaff,
To see how now even Boyes do at him laugh,
Supported by the buttresse of a staff.

This man, I say, in such a tottering state,
Of Means, as well as Health evacuat,
Prop'd up by art may for some time subsist,
But let him use what Medicines, he list,
His ruinous mouldy Carcasse, after all,
Shall split, and in the Grave, in pieces fall,
And with it all those sad effects of Lust,
And other pleasures shall ly down in Dust,
These only he shall carry with him hence,
As dismal vouchers, and sad evidence,
Of days ill spent, these with this man shall dy,
These with him, under the cold Turf shall ly.

12. Though wickedness be sweet in his mouth, though he hid it under his tongue.

Here, here's the end of him, who takes delite
In acts of sin, whose curious appetite,
Feeds upou sin, dress'd up with sauce of youth,
Which makes it taste like Hony in the mouth,

13. Though he spare it, and forsake it not, but keep it still within his mouth

Of him who takes such pleasure in his vice,
As he esteems himself in Paradise,
When tumbling 'mongst the downs of soft delite,
In the embraces of some catamite,
Or some rank Whore: of the lewd man, who swears,
There's nothing to his eye so fair appears,
As those fine pleasures, which perpetually,
The preaching-fools, with violence decry,
Who hugs sin in his bosome, clings about it,
Who cannot eat, drink, wake, or sleep without it.

14. Yet his meat in his bowels is turned, and it is the gall of asps within him.

O thus shall end the man, who in his youth,
As one keeps Sugar-tablet in his mouth,
And cause 'tis sweet, he will not let it o'r,
Until it melt, but sucks it more, and more,
With great delite: so sweetly sucks the juice
Of sin, as if it were his only choise.
For as a poisoned morsel to the taste,
By art is rendred pleasant, but at last,
When in the Stomach it begins to boile,
And throws up noisome fumes like scalding Oyl,
Not Rhubarb, gall of Asps, or Hemlock root,
Can be more bitter: so beyond all doubt
Sin, when the pleasure of its act is gone,

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And mans hot blood begins to cool anon.
Becomes so bitter, so severely tart,
As makes the poor deluded sinners heart,
Sink in a sea of griefs, and meanly faint,
At thoughts of sin: but O how few repent,
At these sad doings! O how few abstain,
For all that sorrow, all that grief, and pain,
From shrewd repeating of those sins again.

15. He hath swallowed down riches, and he shall vomit them up again, God shall cast them out of his belly.

With the same pleasure he who swallows down,
Great quantity of worldly means, assoon
As he has got according to his mind,
His bargain's clos'd, the writings seal'd, and sign'd,
The Evidents, and Keys Delivered,
His Title fix't, his Right ascertained,
Both of his Purchase, and his Warrandice,
And with his own convenience pay'd the price.
So that he cannot fancy for his heart,
Where lyes th'encumbrance on which Lawyers art
Can found Eviction.—
Then God, in anger, on this fool doth look,
And as one angles Fishes, by a Hook,
So neatly busk'd, and covered with a Fly,
As in the Water to a vulgar eye,
It appears real: so when wealth entices,
This cunning worldling, by his own devices,
He's quickly catch'd, and hook'd, all he has got,
His Houses, Mannours, Treasures, and what not,
Are quickly taken from him, and amain
He vomits all he swallowed, up again.

16. He shall suck the poison of asps, the vipers tongue shall slay him.

Like one that sucks the poison of an Asp,
Or Vipers Tongue, who to his utmost gasp,
Continues in a constant vomiting,
So shall this Creature, once so flourishing:
By loss succeeding loss continually,
See himself strip't of all before he dy.

17. He shall not see the rivers, the floods, the brooks of honey, and butter.

Those great contentments which he did project
In all his actings, which he did expect,
As the reward of all his toile and pain,
Whilst he would fancy in his idle brain,
How in the affluence of all earthly pleasure,
He'd spend his years, at his own ease and leasure,
He never shall enjoy, nor shall he see,
Or understand what those contentments be.

18. That which he laboured for he shall restore, and shall not swallow it down, according to his substance shall the restitution be, and he shall not rejoice therein.

No, he shall ever see those happy days,
Which in his great transactions, he always
Projected to himself; for though some men,
Their sinful acquests for some time retain,
Yet others for a moment scarce enjoy
Those things, in purchase whereof they imploy
Much precious time; so this unhappy man,
Shall see his Lands, and Means (do what he can)
Ere he by sherking methods, and oppression,
Has got the same well in his own possession,

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Quickly restor'd, and all he had of late,
In a few minuts wholly dissipat.
Nor must he think his substance to divide,
And that Gods justice will be satisfy'd
With restitution of his sinful gain,
Whilst what he fairly had, he may retain,
No, he must no such fancy entertain.
For as a few prohibit Merchandize,
In time of War, will make a Loadning Prize,
To boot, with Ship, in which these goods are found,
If to the Ports of Enemies 'tis bound;
So all his wealth, without distinction fall,
Under the Mene-tekel on his wall,
And for oppression he must forfeit all.

19. Because he hath oppressed, and hath forsaken the poor, because he hath violently taken away an house which he builded not.

For to enrich himself, has ruin'd many,
Where his advantage lay, not sparing any.
Without all Law, he did oppresse the poor,
Distrain'd their goods, and turn'd them to the door,
Half naked, with their Families to feed,
In charity, and when they begg'd their bread
From him, he'd bid those wretches quick be gone,
Or he'd cause lay them in the Stocks anon,
Because this avaricious man, God wot,
Has seiz'd on houses which he builded not.

20. Surely he shall not feel quietness in his belly, he shall not save of that which he desired.

Therefore this man shall in his mind possesse
No real peace, nor solid quietnesse,
Because so oft he hath the poor oppress't,
In his rouz'd conscience he shall have no rest,
He sees his numerous losses antedate,
His death: his substance all dilapidate.
Before his eyes; nor can he so much save,
As may defray his charges to the Grave,
In decent order of a Funeral,
But dyes deserted, and abhorr'd by all.

21. There shall none of his meat be left, therefore shall no man look for his goods.

None of his kindred shall his death bemoan,
Or take up Inventar when he is gone,
Of his effects, no man for his Estate
Shall sue, no kinsmen 'mongst themselves debate
Who shall succeed him: none crave sequestration
Of Writs, or put in for administration:
No, no, for all his former wealth and store,
Now he is gone, he shall be found so poor,
Shall neither have Heir, nor Executor.

22. In the fulness of his sufficiency he shall be in straits, every hand of the wicked shall come upon him.

And when d'ye think shall this oppressor fall?
Even in the hight and affluence of all
Worldly delites, and pleasure, in the prime
Of his enjoyments, in the pruning time,
Of all his projects, when his life appears,
Entituled to many happy years.
When he doth triumph in his high-swoln paunch,
Then shall he be destroyed, root and branch:
Then shall his fellow-sinners fall upon him,
Kill him, and so there shall be no more on him.

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23. When he is about to fill his belly, God shall cast the fury of his wrath upon him while he is eating.

Have you not seen what pleasure, and delite,
A young man of a lusty appetite,
Expresses at the sight of luscious meats,
Falls to them greedily; but no sooner eats
A few small morsels, then incontinent
He changes colours, and begins to faint,
Finding the poison in its operation,
Abridge his hours beyond imagination:
Then in a feaver violent and hot,
Unconquerable by any antidote;
Studded with spots, and pois'nous signs, he lyes
For a small time, sighs out his life and dyes.
So when this man expects he may enjoy,
What he has purchas'd, then will God destroy
Him utterly, and send him, with his hopes,
To ly in dust amongst those silly fops,
Who the same thoughts in life did entertain,
But now too late, perceive they're all but vain.

24. He shall fly from the iron weapon, and the bow of steel shall strick him through.

Nay though he may by policy prevent
Th'effects of an unlucky accident,
And by his cunning art stave of another,
Yet after he has scap'd both one, and 'tother,
A third shall reach him which he least of all
Suspects, and make him quickly headlong fall
Down from the turret of his happinesse,
And in a few hours do his businesse.
As he who from the raging sword doth fly,
When come to handy blows, is by and by,
By Arrow from a Crosse-bow in his flight,
Wounded, or with a Bullet shot down-right.

25. It is drawn, & cometh out of the body, yea the glistering sword cometh out of his gall, terrors are upon him.

And as when one pursues his enemy,
With shot as thick as hail, whilst he doth fly,
And beats him down, so when with furious speed,
He gallops up, and finds him not yet dead,
He draws his Arrow from the deadly wound,
Whilst the poor soul doth gasp upon the ground,
And whilst he breaths, from stricking never ceases,
Till with his sword has hew'd him all to pieces.
So in his anger, God will still persist,
And ne're from beating of this man desist,
With vengeance, upon vengeance, till he grind him
To powder, so that those who think to find him,
Dead in some ditch, and when his Corps are found,
Would be at charge to hide it under ground,
Shall make search for his Body here, and there,
But they may as well ramble in the Air,
A hunting of the wild Boar, Fox, or Hare.
Let them search, as they will, yet without doubt,
For all their Art, shall never find him out.

26. All darknesse shall be hid in his secret places, a fire not blown shall consume, it shall go ill with him, that is left in his tabernacle.

Nor will our God, when he doth once begin,
To plague this wicked person for his sin,
In his proceedings so much favour show,
To this same man, as at one single blow
To cut him off: no, he must not expect

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That God will him at once to pieces break,
No, no, 'tis not his custom so to deal,
With such vile Malefactors, but piece meal,
He'll take him down, as thou perhaps hast seen,
In thy own time, how some rich man has been,
Whilst flourishing in Wealth, not instantly,
But by degrees, reduc'd to poverty.
For first some tache upon his reputation,
Is fix'd, which puts his credit out of fashion,
Then all those men, who deal with him suspect,
There may be something in't, and least he break,
With all their Goods, and many in his hands,
Where his effects do ly, each one demands,
And he's secure, can first extend his Lands.
Then for his person, he dars not abide,
Th'assaults of law, but is constrain'd to hide
Himself in some dark corner, out of sight,
And cast up his Accounts by Candle-light.
Or if in obscure nights he steals abroad,
Thinking to find a way, by some By-road,
To his own dwelling, he retires assoon
To his sad kennel, as he sees the Moon
Peep through the Clouds, at length the Catch-poles eye,
Doth find him out, and he is by and by
Clapt up in Jayl: the news no sooner spread,
But all of his Imprisonment are glad,
And on him soon a many Actions laid.
Thus now in Firmance, his effects all seiz'd,
Opprest with sorrow, crazy, and diseas'd:
His desolate, and starving Family,
With open mouth, for Aliment do cry:
But he has nothing left, to purchase bread,
And cannot now upon his credit, feed
Those hungry things, but for one single day,
So that they're forc'd to shift another way,
Truss up their little Furniture, and so
All hand in hand fairly a begging go.
The news of this so shrewdly doth torment
Th'imprison'd man, that now (his spirits spent)
With his last breath, he payes his Creditors,
And makes the Worms his sole Executors.
Ev'n so this grand Oppressour, whilst his Sun
Doth clearly shine, is by degrees undone,
And all his friends and followers every where,
When this man falls, shall in his Judgement share.

27. The heaven shall reveal his iniquity, and the earth shall rise up against him.

Nor need his Judges be at so much pains,
As 'gainst this man to search for evidence.
For Heav'ns themselves (though all men silent were)
Shall his bad actings openly declare;
And when this sinner, with up-lifted hand,
Arraign'd, for hundred Crimes, at Bar shall stand:
The Earth in Judgement too shall then appear,
And make out all his Crimes, so full and clear,
As of his guilt that Court shall no more doubt,

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But 'gainst him sentence speedilie give out.
Then shall the Witness first of all, lay hands
On this poor soul, and as the Law commands,
Beat him to Death: that all the world may see,
With what impartial measures such as he
Are judg'd, and punish'd.—

28. The encrease of his house shall depart, and his goods shall flow away in the day of his wrath.

Thus shall this tall, and famous sinner die
Himself: and for his poor posteritie,
They shall themselves like Rivolets disperse,
Some here, some there, through all the universe.
Poor pedling Miscreants, in great straits, and wants,
A scattered rabble, the Inhabitants
Of all the World; a sad Societie
Of hateful Slaves, without all propertie,
Without all order, Laws and Government,
Pillag'd by all, and yet dare not resent:
Nor shall this so late numerous Family,
Amongst them all erect one Colony,
That may preserve this great mans Memory.
And for his Goods and Chattels, in the day
Of Gods hot Wrath, they shall all melt away

29. This is the portion of a wicked man and the heritage appointed to him by God.

Thus all bad men shall perish, thus they shall,
Who do contemn their great Creator, fall.
Presumptous Persons God doth punish so,
These judgments everie one shall undergo,
Who with bold language doth his God upbraid,
And is not of his flamming Wrath afraid:
When he sees others punish'd, but persists
In Sin, thinks, speaks, and acteth what he lists.