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 |
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| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| II. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| III. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. | Cap. XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| IV. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| V. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
 | The grand Tryal |  |
189
Cap. XXIII.
When
the insulting Temanite had thus
Opened his charge, by which he did accuse
His friend, of gross Oppression, Bribery,
Uncharitable Dealings, Usury,
Nay Atheism it self, for which he said
God him at length had justlie punished:
And by so manie special instances,
Of Villanie, endeavoured to press
The truth of what he boldlie did assert,
By all the rules of eloquence, and art:
The poor afflicted soul, who all this while
Lay in great torment, and would sometimes smile,
To see his friend, who formerly had spar'd
To tax his person, now without regard
Ol old acquaintance, and the sacred tyes,
And rules of friendship, thus in choller rise:
And formallie accuse him of such crimes
As he, who knew him well in former times,
Could not esteem him guilty, were he call'd
To be upon his jury: and yet gall'd
To hear his friend, with so much impudence,
Endeavour to convel that innocenc,
On which himself he so much valued,
As sure of that, all that he suffered
He undervalu'd, though now faint, and weak,
Yet he no longer could forbear to speak.
But after h'had with sighs ingeminate,
Rememb'red sadlie on his former state,
As soon as heavie groans, which constantlie
Oppres'd his spirit, would to words give way,
To his Inditement with great modestie.
He thus put in his answer.
Opened his charge, by which he did accuse
His friend, of gross Oppression, Bribery,
Uncharitable Dealings, Usury,
Nay Atheism it self, for which he said
God him at length had justlie punished:
And by so manie special instances,
Of Villanie, endeavoured to press
The truth of what he boldlie did assert,
By all the rules of eloquence, and art:
The poor afflicted soul, who all this while
Lay in great torment, and would sometimes smile,
To see his friend, who formerly had spar'd
To tax his person, now without regard
Ol old acquaintance, and the sacred tyes,
And rules of friendship, thus in choller rise:
And formallie accuse him of such crimes
As he, who knew him well in former times,
Could not esteem him guilty, were he call'd
To be upon his jury: and yet gall'd
To hear his friend, with so much impudence,
Endeavour to convel that innocenc,
On which himself he so much valued,
As sure of that, all that he suffered
He undervalu'd, though now faint, and weak,
Yet he no longer could forbear to speak.
But after h'had with sighs ingeminate,
Rememb'red sadlie on his former state,
As soon as heavie groans, which constantlie
Oppres'd his spirit, would to words give way,
To his Inditement with great modestie.
He thus put in his answer.
My friends, says he, I see with how much art
You all endeavour to undo my heart:
And strive one after t'other, by your words,
To hew me down, as with so manie swords:
Unkindlie done!
For now indeed, at length I plainlie see,
All those reflections have been mean't for me,
Which you from the beginning have related,
Since first the question betwixt us was stated.
I see you use no more your fained Stories,
Your painted figures, and your Allegories,
But in plain terms, you formallie do charge
Me with those numerous crimes, of which, at large
In the third person, you have formerlie
Discours'd, but now you tell me openlie
I'm guiltie of them all.
But to all you have said, my sole defence,
I still do found upon my innocence.
Your bitter Charge I utterly deny,
I plead not guilty, and will justify
My self at all occasions, against all
Who of such villanies shall me guilty call.
D'ye think, my friends, but an ingenuous heart
Has much ado in earnest, for its part,
T'endure such language, as you're pleas'd to vent
'Gainst one, who knows himself most innocent,
Of all the Crimes you talk of, pray, consider,
Were it the case of any of you, whether
Would you with patience such rude language bear,
As from your mouths I am constrain'd to hear.
Alace, what man from passion can abstain,
Hearing himself thus tax'd once, and again;
Then why do you complain, that I complain;
Indeed my Soul is in more heavinesse,
Then I by my complaining can expresse.
The very torments that afflict my Bones,
Are more in weight, and number, then my groans.
You all endeavour to undo my heart:
And strive one after t'other, by your words,
To hew me down, as with so manie swords:
Unkindlie done!
For now indeed, at length I plainlie see,
All those reflections have been mean't for me,
Which you from the beginning have related,
Since first the question betwixt us was stated.
I see you use no more your fained Stories,
Your painted figures, and your Allegories,
But in plain terms, you formallie do charge
Me with those numerous crimes, of which, at large
In the third person, you have formerlie
Discours'd, but now you tell me openlie
I'm guiltie of them all.
190
I still do found upon my innocence.
Your bitter Charge I utterly deny,
I plead not guilty, and will justify
My self at all occasions, against all
Who of such villanies shall me guilty call.
D'ye think, my friends, but an ingenuous heart
Has much ado in earnest, for its part,
T'endure such language, as you're pleas'd to vent
'Gainst one, who knows himself most innocent,
Of all the Crimes you talk of, pray, consider,
Were it the case of any of you, whether
Would you with patience such rude language bear,
As from your mouths I am constrain'd to hear.
Alace, what man from passion can abstain,
Hearing himself thus tax'd once, and again;
Then why do you complain, that I complain;
Indeed my Soul is in more heavinesse,
Then I by my complaining can expresse.
The very torments that afflict my Bones,
Are more in weight, and number, then my groans.
You tell me, I should turn to God, alace,
I fain would do't, if I could see his face:
Would I could find him, would I could know where
He shows himself to men, I would repair
To him indeed, but since that cannot be
Allow'd me, since his face I cannot see:
Yet in regard I am condemn'd by you,
Who are my Parties, and my Judges too:
Knowing, that he both sees, and hears me well,
To him, as supream judge I do appeal.
I fain would do't, if I could see his face:
Would I could find him, would I could know where
He shows himself to men, I would repair
To him indeed, but since that cannot be
Allow'd me, since his face I cannot see:
Yet in regard I am condemn'd by you,
Who are my Parties, and my Judges too:
Knowing, that he both sees, and hears me well,
To him, as supream judge I do appeal.
But O again, I wish I were allow'd
Free accesse to him, there indeed I wou'd
So order my affair, and so deduce
My Case hefore my God, I would so use
That liberty, and with such moderation,
Plead my just cause, as I should find compassion
From him, I would so argue, and debate,
Upon the subject of my present state,
Before that Judge, as I am confident,
His Majesty would find me innocent.
Free accesse to him, there indeed I wou'd
So order my affair, and so deduce
My Case hefore my God, I would so use
That liberty, and with such moderation,
Plead my just cause, as I should find compassion
From him, I would so argue, and debate,
Upon the subject of my present state,
Before that Judge, as I am confident,
His Majesty would find me innocent.
Then would I hear, then would I understand,
What can be said upon the other hand,
Against my so well known integrity,
To which, with freedom I might make reply.
What can be said upon the other hand,
Against my so well known integrity,
To which, with freedom I might make reply.
O that to God then I might accesse have,
Let him but hear me, and no more I crave:
Let him but hear me, and before his Throne,
I shall so mannage my just cause alone,
Without the help of counsel, as I shall
Be able soon to overthrow them all,
That do accuse me: let me but appear
Before my Maker, and I do not fear
What man can say against me, for I know
He will not do, as Judges here below,
Who byass'd by some privat interest,
In Plaintiff, or Defendant, use to wrest
The Laws, to serve their turn, and sullenly,
With stern looks, and expressions terrify
The Prisoner at Bar: nor will he watch
My fearful words, to see if he can catch
Any advantage from them, or allow
Crosse questions, and such tricks, as those men do,
To make me guilty, and then state the case
To th'listning Jury with a double face.
No, my Creator would take no such way,
But hear me calmly what I had to say
In my defence, he would not terrify,
My panting soul with his authority:
But on the contrair, he would hear me plead,
Without once interrupting me, and stead
Of vexing me with questions, he'd afford
Arguments for my safety, in a word,
Should I appear before him, I am sure,
My tryal could for no long time endure:
For he would soon acquit me, and release
My Soul from pains, could I but see his face.
O blessed face! could I have liberty
To see it, I should be immediatly
Free from all censure, clamour, calumny.
Let him but hear me, and no more I crave:
Let him but hear me, and before his Throne,
I shall so mannage my just cause alone,
Without the help of counsel, as I shall
Be able soon to overthrow them all,
That do accuse me: let me but appear
Before my Maker, and I do not fear
What man can say against me, for I know
191
Who byass'd by some privat interest,
In Plaintiff, or Defendant, use to wrest
The Laws, to serve their turn, and sullenly,
With stern looks, and expressions terrify
The Prisoner at Bar: nor will he watch
My fearful words, to see if he can catch
Any advantage from them, or allow
Crosse questions, and such tricks, as those men do,
To make me guilty, and then state the case
To th'listning Jury with a double face.
No, my Creator would take no such way,
But hear me calmly what I had to say
In my defence, he would not terrify,
My panting soul with his authority:
But on the contrair, he would hear me plead,
Without once interrupting me, and stead
Of vexing me with questions, he'd afford
Arguments for my safety, in a word,
Should I appear before him, I am sure,
My tryal could for no long time endure:
For he would soon acquit me, and release
My Soul from pains, could I but see his face.
O blessed face! could I have liberty
To see it, I should be immediatly
Free from all censure, clamour, calumny.
There may a just man boldly plead his cause,
Not fearing danger from ambiguous Laws:
There he may speak with freedom, there he may
Unfold at large all that he has to say,
In his defence, what e'r he can pretend,
He may alledge, he may himself defend
Fully, for God will hear him to an end.
There, O there should I have the happinesse
To be once try'd, how should my righteousnesse
In view of all be clearly vindicat
From these asperssions, which some men, of late
Have laboured to fix upon me, then,
They should perceive their malice was in vain,
For being once acquit, I shall for ever
Be absolutely free from tryal, never
To be again for any fault, or crime
Brought to the Bar; nay, after posting Time
Has run its course out, and the day shall come,
Which shall appear most terrible to some
Whose names are in the Rolls then to be try'd,
I shall be found already justify'd.
Not fearing danger from ambiguous Laws:
There he may speak with freedom, there he may
Unfold at large all that he has to say,
In his defence, what e'r he can pretend,
He may alledge, he may himself defend
Fully, for God will hear him to an end.
There, O there should I have the happinesse
To be once try'd, how should my righteousnesse
In view of all be clearly vindicat
From these asperssions, which some men, of late
Have laboured to fix upon me, then,
They should perceive their malice was in vain,
For being once acquit, I shall for ever
Be absolutely free from tryal, never
To be again for any fault, or crime
Brought to the Bar; nay, after posting Time
Has run its course out, and the day shall come,
Which shall appear most terrible to some
Whose names are in the Rolls then to be try'd,
I shall be found already justify'd.
But, O, my Soul, why shouldst thou thus complain,
Thou canst not see him: why should thou in vain
Crave accesse to a God invisible,
Infinite, and incomprehensible?
A mighty God, who no where doth appear,
And yet is truly present every where.
A God, whose saving wings do thee surround,
Who walks with thee, and yet cannot be found,
By all thy Art: why should thou thus in vain
Make search for him, whom no place can contain?
Forward, or backward, whither shall I go
To find my God, why, truth, I do not know,
For 'tis all one to me, what course I steer,
Since he's to be be discovered no where.
Thou canst not see him: why should thou in vain
Crave accesse to a God invisible,
Infinite, and incomprehensible?
A mighty God, who no where doth appear,
And yet is truly present every where.
A God, whose saving wings do thee surround,
192
By all thy Art: why should thou thus in vain
Make search for him, whom no place can contain?
Forward, or backward, whither shall I go
To find my God, why, truth, I do not know,
For 'tis all one to me, what course I steer,
Since he's to be be discovered no where.
For should I fancy that Heavens King doth stand,
As some conceive, the North on his left hand;
Where he doth wonders, where he dayly shows
His glory, and his Cab'net doth unclose,
In which his greatest rarities he keeps,
Beyond the Arctick Circle, in the deeps,
Where, Whales, like floating Castles, do appear,
The terror of the Ocean, and declare
Their great Creators power, where Nations dwell,
Who do our southern people far excel;
In strength and courage; or if I in search
Of him should to the Pole Antarctick march,
Where he in glory is no lesse renown'd,
Why after all, he is not to be found.
As some conceive, the North on his left hand;
Where he doth wonders, where he dayly shows
His glory, and his Cab'net doth unclose,
In which his greatest rarities he keeps,
Beyond the Arctick Circle, in the deeps,
Where, Whales, like floating Castles, do appear,
The terror of the Ocean, and declare
Their great Creators power, where Nations dwell,
Who do our southern people far excel;
In strength and courage; or if I in search
Of him should to the Pole Antarctick march,
Where he in glory is no lesse renown'd,
Why after all, he is not to be found.
But what needs more, since he will not allow me
Accesse, yet foolish men shall not undo me,
By their false accusations, for I still
Deny my Charge, enforce it, as you will.
And here before my God I do protest,
Who knows the hidden thoughts within my breast,
That all my lifetime I have tane delight
In calling on his Name, both day, and night:
How I have liv'd, he knows, and hithertoo
Behav'd my self, and with what fervour now
I pray unto him, in my woful case,
Though he denys to let me see his face:
Though I his favour now have forfaulted,
And fom his presence sadly banished,
As an example of his wrath I lye
Here upon Dung-hill, yet he knows that I
Have still endeavoured since my infancy
To honour him, and in whatever station,
To order still aright my conversation.
So that I fully do my self perswade,
When of my vertue he has tryal made;
When in Afflictions Furnace, o'r, and o'r,
I'm melted down, yet ever as before,
In substance, weight, and price I shall be found
The same, and in my Conscience pure, and sound:
And after all my sufferings I am bold
To think, I shall be taken out like Gold.
Accesse, yet foolish men shall not undo me,
By their false accusations, for I still
Deny my Charge, enforce it, as you will.
And here before my God I do protest,
Who knows the hidden thoughts within my breast,
That all my lifetime I have tane delight
In calling on his Name, both day, and night:
How I have liv'd, he knows, and hithertoo
Behav'd my self, and with what fervour now
I pray unto him, in my woful case,
Though he denys to let me see his face:
Though I his favour now have forfaulted,
And fom his presence sadly banished,
As an example of his wrath I lye
Here upon Dung-hill, yet he knows that I
Have still endeavoured since my infancy
To honour him, and in whatever station,
To order still aright my conversation.
So that I fully do my self perswade,
When of my vertue he has tryal made;
When in Afflictions Furnace, o'r, and o'r,
I'm melted down, yet ever as before,
In substance, weight, and price I shall be found
The same, and in my Conscience pure, and sound:
And after all my sufferings I am bold
To think, I shall be taken out like Gold.
Indeed, Ive sometimes had the happinesse,
To know what did belong to righteousnesse;
I have devoutly all Gods Lawes obey'd,
And in my conversation have not stray'd
From his Commands, I have not deviate
From the true road, although it seems of late
You have perceiv'd, my friends, that I have err'd,
And firmlie do believe what you have heard
Through all the Countrie from my enemies:
Which, trust me, are but lies, and calumnies.
To know what did belong to righteousnesse;
I have devoutly all Gods Lawes obey'd,
And in my conversation have not stray'd
From his Commands, I have not deviate
193
You have perceiv'd, my friends, that I have err'd,
And firmlie do believe what you have heard
Through all the Countrie from my enemies:
Which, trust me, are but lies, and calumnies.
Alace, my friends, I'd fain have you believe
Of all my torments there is none doth grieve
My Soul so much: as that you should arraign
Me for such horrid Crimes, and still maintain
These to be true, which I do still deny,
Why this is even the height of Cruelty.
For still before my God I do protest
I don't remember ever in the least
That I from his Commandements have err'd,
What e're to th'contrair is by you averr'd.
His Words I have esteem'd, and understood
The same to be more necessar than food.
Of all my torments there is none doth grieve
My Soul so much: as that you should arraign
Me for such horrid Crimes, and still maintain
These to be true, which I do still deny,
Why this is even the height of Cruelty.
For still before my God I do protest
I don't remember ever in the least
That I from his Commandements have err'd,
What e're to th'contrair is by you averr'd.
His Words I have esteem'd, and understood
The same to be more necessar than food.
But all that I can speak, protest, or plead
Is to no purpose, for God taks no heed
To my Discourse: his mind is still the same.
For he's resolv'd that in afflictions flame,
I shall continue, he's inexorable
To all my crys.—
Then since it must be so, I'le not contend
With God, but suffer all, and here's an end.
For God does what he lists, he's abbsolute
O're all his Creatures, and who dares dispute
What he commands: then let him harrass me
Even as he will, why not, his acts are free.
Is to no purpose, for God taks no heed
To my Discourse: his mind is still the same.
For he's resolv'd that in afflictions flame,
I shall continue, he's inexorable
To all my crys.—
Then since it must be so, I'le not contend
With God, but suffer all, and here's an end.
For God does what he lists, he's abbsolute
O're all his Creatures, and who dares dispute
What he commands: then let him harrass me
Even as he will, why not, his acts are free.
For what he from my Birth had ordered
I should endure, that I have suffered,
And am to suffer yet upon that score
What h'as appointed for me, and no more.
And now I think on't, my afflictions are
By Gods Determination ordinar
For other men t'endure, as well as me,
As in our converse we may dailie see,
So that these being his common practices,
With men on earth, my hopes are still the less,
That e're he from afflicting me will cease.
I should endure, that I have suffered,
And am to suffer yet upon that score
What h'as appointed for me, and no more.
And now I think on't, my afflictions are
By Gods Determination ordinar
For other men t'endure, as well as me,
As in our converse we may dailie see,
So that these being his common practices,
With men on earth, my hopes are still the less,
That e're he from afflicting me will cease.
In thoughts of this with grief I'm overlaid,
I die with weeping, for I am afraid
My sad afflictions shall continue still,
Let me both do, and say even what I will.
I die with weeping, for I am afraid
My sad afflictions shall continue still,
Let me both do, and say even what I will.
For I perceive God is too strong for me,
And in my sad afflictions I see
His Mightie Hand has made me soft, and tame,
So that to fear I much obnoxious am.
And in my sad afflictions I see
His Mightie Hand has made me soft, and tame,
So that to fear I much obnoxious am.
I fear, I fear my troubles shall endure
Longer than you do all expect, for sure
Had he not ordered from Eternity
That I should in afflictions Furnace ly,
Until I were consum'd, 'had cut my daies,
That I might ne're have seen such woes as these.
Longer than you do all expect, for sure
Had he not ordered from Eternity
That I should in afflictions Furnace ly,
Until I were consum'd, 'had cut my daies,
That I might ne're have seen such woes as these.
| The grand Tryal | |