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. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| IV. |
| XXXII. | Cap. XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| V. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
 | The grand Tryal |  |
Cap. XXXII.
And now the long debate is at an end,
For th'other three perceiving how their friend
Still unconvinc'd, himself did justify,
And would not pass from his integrity,
But that to every proof and evidence,
Which they adduc'd, to rouz his Conscience,
He still oppon'd his unstain'd innocence.
All over wearied, and perceiving now
'Twas but in vain t'have any more to do
With one, who was beyond their reasoning,
Hence now all silent.—
For th'other three perceiving how their friend
Still unconvinc'd, himself did justify,
And would not pass from his integrity,
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Which they adduc'd, to rouz his Conscience,
He still oppon'd his unstain'd innocence.
All over wearied, and perceiving now
'Twas but in vain t'have any more to do
With one, who was beyond their reasoning,
Hence now all silent.—
As in some pleadings, you have, after all
Have spoke, observ'd th'Actorney-General
Resume the series of the whole debate,
And in good order recapitulate
Both Parties Arguments, and then declare
Wherein, in his opinion both do err,
And where agree with Law: so after these
And Job at large had argued the case:
One, who had sit by all the while, and heard
All that had past, but had not yet appear'd
In the debate, one Elihu by name,
A pious young man, of the house of Ram,
Descended, as is thought of Nahors race,
Residing not far distant from the place
Where Job did live: come hither to condole
As well, it seems, as th'others: this mans Soul
Enrag'd at what he heard both Parties speak,
Resolves at length to tell his mind, and check
Both of 'em for their errors: and first here
Begins with Job, because he did appear
To justifie himself, and usually
Would in his passion ask a reason why
He was afflicted thus, as if that he
Had known no sin, had been from errour free;
And God, whom he with fervency and zeal,
Had alwayes serv'd, now had not us'd him well:
But laid him low, and so by consequence
He was unjust in whipping innocence.
Have spoke, observ'd th'Actorney-General
Resume the series of the whole debate,
And in good order recapitulate
Both Parties Arguments, and then declare
Wherein, in his opinion both do err,
And where agree with Law: so after these
And Job at large had argued the case:
One, who had sit by all the while, and heard
All that had past, but had not yet appear'd
In the debate, one Elihu by name,
A pious young man, of the house of Ram,
Descended, as is thought of Nahors race,
Residing not far distant from the place
Where Job did live: come hither to condole
As well, it seems, as th'others: this mans Soul
Enrag'd at what he heard both Parties speak,
Resolves at length to tell his mind, and check
Both of 'em for their errors: and first here
Begins with Job, because he did appear
To justifie himself, and usually
Would in his passion ask a reason why
He was afflicted thus, as if that he
Had known no sin, had been from errour free;
And God, whom he with fervency and zeal,
Had alwayes serv'd, now had not us'd him well:
But laid him low, and so by consequence
He was unjust in whipping innocence.
Next at his three friends he was angry too,
'Cause they had all this while kept such adoe,
With long discourses, edg'd with eloquence,
And argu'd with great heat, and violence,
Against a man, whom God had visited
With sorrows, as if he had merited
Those evils, by his sins: yet after all,
They could not prove that he was Criminal
Of what they did accuse him; but indeed
Did rather for him, then against him plead.
Because with all their painted Allegories,
Their pitiful, and oft repeated Stories,
Of great mens down-falls; and the Tragical
Exits of those, whom th'world doth happy call:
They were so far from proving what they aim'd,
As he admir'd such men were not asham'd
To so small purpose to have argued,
When he observ'd to all that he had said,
Th'afflicted man had with such gravity,
Such polish'd reason, and solidity,
So wisely, and discreetly answered,
As they had not yet any progress made
In what they undertook, nor could they prove
That he was one found guilty from above.
Yet had all three concluded he was such
As those great men of whom they talk'd too much.
'Cause they had all this while kept such adoe,
With long discourses, edg'd with eloquence,
And argu'd with great heat, and violence,
Against a man, whom God had visited
With sorrows, as if he had merited
Those evils, by his sins: yet after all,
They could not prove that he was Criminal
Of what they did accuse him; but indeed
Did rather for him, then against him plead.
Because with all their painted Allegories,
Their pitiful, and oft repeated Stories,
Of great mens down-falls; and the Tragical
Exits of those, whom th'world doth happy call:
They were so far from proving what they aim'd,
As he admir'd such men were not asham'd
To so small purpose to have argued,
When he observ'd to all that he had said,
Th'afflicted man had with such gravity,
Such polish'd reason, and solidity,
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As they had not yet any progress made
In what they undertook, nor could they prove
That he was one found guilty from above.
Yet had all three concluded he was such
As those great men of whom they talk'd too much.
Now this same Elihu, this knowing Youth
Sate silently not opening of his mouth,
During the whole Debate, and with attention,
Had heard them speak, what in his apprehension,
Might ha' been spar'd: yet would not undertake
To interrupt them, whilst they yet did speak,
In reverence to their Age, and that true sense
Of things afforded by experience,
With which he thought those men were richly stor'd,
And therefore, whilst they argu'd, not one word
Upon the Subject from his mouth did fall,
Though in his mind he kept record of all.
Sate silently not opening of his mouth,
During the whole Debate, and with attention,
Had heard them speak, what in his apprehension,
Might ha' been spar'd: yet would not undertake
To interrupt them, whilst they yet did speak,
In reverence to their Age, and that true sense
Of things afforded by experience,
With which he thought those men were richly stor'd,
And therefore, whilst they argu'd, not one word
Upon the Subject from his mouth did fall,
Though in his mind he kept record of all.
But now that Job his last Discourse had ended,
And he, with patience, had some time attended,
To see if any of 'em would answer make,
That not succeeding, as he did expect,
In indignation, he began to speak.
And he, with patience, had some time attended,
To see if any of 'em would answer make,
That not succeeding, as he did expect,
In indignation, he began to speak.
I'me young, says he, 'tis true, and you are old,
On which account I durst not be so bold,
Whilst you persisted in your reasoning,
To give you my opinion of the thing:
But now, that I perceive you at a Bay,
And it appears you have no more to say;
Not knowing further, as the Case doth stand,
How to pursue the Argument in hand:
And that Jobs Reason's strong, yours low, and weak
I think it is high time for me to speak.
On which account I durst not be so bold,
Whilst you persisted in your reasoning,
To give you my opinion of the thing:
But now, that I perceive you at a Bay,
And it appears you have no more to say;
Not knowing further, as the Case doth stand,
How to pursue the Argument in hand:
And that Jobs Reason's strong, yours low, and weak
I think it is high time for me to speak.
For, truth, I with the Vulgar, had esteem
For every Formal Fop, that bore the name
Of solid Judgment hudled up in years,
And had a great respect for Silver hairs.
For every Formal Fop, that bore the name
Of solid Judgment hudled up in years,
And had a great respect for Silver hairs.
But now I see, now I perceive at last,
(Reflecting seriously on what is past,)
The fallacy of this Vulgar Error, now
I clearly see, what 'tis to have to do
With men of reason; who, as well appears,
Are not to be out-brav'd by boasting years.
Now I perceive, what we Experience call
And aged Judgment, is meer cous'nage all.
For when 'tis brought to th'Test, and we expect
Our gray-hair'd Sires, like Oracles should speak,
And utter nothing, but grave Sentences;
In you, my friends, I've seen, I do profess
Nothing but a tenacious wilfulness.
For I've observ'd, with how much heat, and passion
You spoke, and us'd but little moderation
In your Discourse: which, if I may divine,
The Judgment, by the Tongue, is no good sign
Of reall wisdom: and I now conceive,
That we of younger years, are made believe,
Old men, to be the only men of sense,
Because enrich'd with long experience,
And that no man, while old can become wise,
Meerly by th'unperceived artifice
Of bare Tradition: as the idle tales
Of Fairies, and Hobgoblins, or what else
Good women, to affright their babes devise
Do passe for truths, though little more then lies.
(Reflecting seriously on what is past,)
The fallacy of this Vulgar Error, now
I clearly see, what 'tis to have to do
With men of reason; who, as well appears,
Are not to be out-brav'd by boasting years.
Now I perceive, what we Experience call
And aged Judgment, is meer cous'nage all.
For when 'tis brought to th'Test, and we expect
Our gray-hair'd Sires, like Oracles should speak,
And utter nothing, but grave Sentences;
In you, my friends, I've seen, I do profess
Nothing but a tenacious wilfulness.
For I've observ'd, with how much heat, and passion
You spoke, and us'd but little moderation
In your Discourse: which, if I may divine,
The Judgment, by the Tongue, is no good sign
281
That we of younger years, are made believe,
Old men, to be the only men of sense,
Because enrich'd with long experience,
And that no man, while old can become wise,
Meerly by th'unperceived artifice
Of bare Tradition: as the idle tales
Of Fairies, and Hobgoblins, or what else
Good women, to affright their babes devise
Do passe for truths, though little more then lies.
No, trust me, wisdom is not purchased
By length of days, nor can a man be said
To be an owner of that quality,
Which we call wisdom, or solidity,
Only because of his antiquity.
Alace, you are deceiv'd, if you think so,
For, by what I have learn'd, I tell you no.
I tell you no,—for I am confident,
There is a Spirit, which from Heaven is sent
Into our Breasts, by which we learn to know,
What all our toile, and labour here below
Cannot attain: for (to be plain with you)
I alwayes thought, but am confirmed now,
That wisdom is a spark of Divine flame,
A piercing glance of him whose hand did frame
The Universe: a most conspicuous sign
Of what we know, but cannot well define.
I think it one of those Cœlestial Rayes,
Which neither doth consist in years, nor days:
A thing that is not in a Sanguine air,
Or a brisque Mine, though one would think that there
Great Spirits lodg'd, nor in a serious eye,
Or sad deportment doth this wisdom lye.
Nor in a dull, and slow phlegmatick sense,
Which doth not yeeld the world much eloquence,
But by a forc'd frugality of speech,
Would make us think what is above its reach,
Were jealously shut up within its breast,
Whilst this wise thing, knows of all others least.
Nor in a sullen melancholy look,
Which seems to order all things by the Book:
And in all subtile Arts, and Sciences
Knows more, then it has language to expresse,
No, I think wit consists in none of these
'Tis neither in Earth, Water, Air, nor Fire,
But God alone, true wisdom doth inspire.
By length of days, nor can a man be said
To be an owner of that quality,
Which we call wisdom, or solidity,
Only because of his antiquity.
Alace, you are deceiv'd, if you think so,
For, by what I have learn'd, I tell you no.
I tell you no,—for I am confident,
There is a Spirit, which from Heaven is sent
Into our Breasts, by which we learn to know,
What all our toile, and labour here below
Cannot attain: for (to be plain with you)
I alwayes thought, but am confirmed now,
That wisdom is a spark of Divine flame,
A piercing glance of him whose hand did frame
The Universe: a most conspicuous sign
Of what we know, but cannot well define.
I think it one of those Cœlestial Rayes,
Which neither doth consist in years, nor days:
A thing that is not in a Sanguine air,
Or a brisque Mine, though one would think that there
Great Spirits lodg'd, nor in a serious eye,
Or sad deportment doth this wisdom lye.
Nor in a dull, and slow phlegmatick sense,
Which doth not yeeld the world much eloquence,
But by a forc'd frugality of speech,
Would make us think what is above its reach,
Were jealously shut up within its breast,
Whilst this wise thing, knows of all others least.
Nor in a sullen melancholy look,
Which seems to order all things by the Book:
And in all subtile Arts, and Sciences
Knows more, then it has language to expresse,
No, I think wit consists in none of these
'Tis neither in Earth, Water, Air, nor Fire,
But God alone, true wisdom doth inspire.
'Tis true, I know there is a rational,
And well prepared soul infus'd in all
The Race of Adam, by which they indeed
From other Creatures are distinguished:
And that this soul, which (being the same in all
The Sons of men,) we do a Spirit call:
May be by Art, and curious Industry
So much improv'd, and elevat so hye,
'Twill stoop to nothing, but Divinity:
Yet in that Spirit Wisdom doth not dwell,
For there's a Spirit, that doth yet excell
That Spirit; which we may call Divine Grace,
There, there true Wisdome hath its dwelling place,
There it resides, and in that Spirit, God,
For mans instruction keeps his firm abode.
Hence those that are not furnish'd with this Spirit,
Let them all Learning, Parts, and Wit inherit:
Let them with stretches of a large dimension,
Exceed the reach of humane apprehension,
In their high, subtile notions: let them raise
Themselves beyond the faculty of praise,
Yea, let all men them wise, and prudent call,
Without this Spirit, they're but dunces all.
And well prepared soul infus'd in all
The Race of Adam, by which they indeed
From other Creatures are distinguished:
And that this soul, which (being the same in all
The Sons of men,) we do a Spirit call:
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So much improv'd, and elevat so hye,
'Twill stoop to nothing, but Divinity:
Yet in that Spirit Wisdom doth not dwell,
For there's a Spirit, that doth yet excell
That Spirit; which we may call Divine Grace,
There, there true Wisdome hath its dwelling place,
There it resides, and in that Spirit, God,
For mans instruction keeps his firm abode.
Hence those that are not furnish'd with this Spirit,
Let them all Learning, Parts, and Wit inherit:
Let them with stretches of a large dimension,
Exceed the reach of humane apprehension,
In their high, subtile notions: let them raise
Themselves beyond the faculty of praise,
Yea, let all men them wise, and prudent call,
Without this Spirit, they're but dunces all.
For don't we see how those, whom all esteem
Prudent, learn'd, wise, and Politicians name
The great eyes of the world: the knowing things
Whom we call States-men, by whose wisdome Kings
Are rul'd, who rule us all.—
When by their carnal wit, and policy,
Void of all grace, they labour foolishly,
To do great things; that thence they may attain
The reputation of contriving men,
When by their wit they make alliances
And break them too, to serve their purposes,
More then their Princes int'rest, for their zeal
Neither regards the Crown, nor Common-weal,
But their own ends, until the Princes eye
Begins to make some sharp discovery
Of their ill actings; then their wit appears,
Their great experience, and their length of years
To be meer folly, and they now too late
Do find that something not precogitate
Doth lack, which would ha'made their wits compleat
For now estranged from their Princes face,
They find their wisdome was not that of grace:
Prudent, learn'd, wise, and Politicians name
The great eyes of the world: the knowing things
Whom we call States-men, by whose wisdome Kings
Are rul'd, who rule us all.—
When by their carnal wit, and policy,
Void of all grace, they labour foolishly,
To do great things; that thence they may attain
The reputation of contriving men,
When by their wit they make alliances
And break them too, to serve their purposes,
More then their Princes int'rest, for their zeal
Neither regards the Crown, nor Common-weal,
But their own ends, until the Princes eye
Begins to make some sharp discovery
Of their ill actings; then their wit appears,
Their great experience, and their length of years
To be meer folly, and they now too late
Do find that something not precogitate
Doth lack, which would ha'made their wits compleat
For now estranged from their Princes face,
They find their wisdome was not that of grace:
And now the poor discarded man of wit,
In solitude most pensively doth sit,
Whilst with his former greatness he begins,
At once to call to mind his former sins:
And so concludes, for all his wit and art,
He was deceiv'd by a deceitful heart,
Which made him still believe that without grace,
His parts would fully do his business;
But now he sees he's but a very fool,
A child, and yet but entring to the School
Of real wisdome: and endeavours now
In the short time he has with much adoe
To know but even the Rudiments of that,
Which far transcends all guilded Rules of State.
In solitude most pensively doth sit,
Whilst with his former greatness he begins,
At once to call to mind his former sins:
And so concludes, for all his wit and art,
He was deceiv'd by a deceitful heart,
Which made him still believe that without grace,
His parts would fully do his business;
But now he sees he's but a very fool,
A child, and yet but entring to the School
Of real wisdome: and endeavours now
In the short time he has with much adoe
To know but even the Rudiments of that,
Which far transcends all guilded Rules of State.
283
Since wisdome then in years doth not consist,
Nor in high knowledge, (think you what you list)
For my part, I think one that has not yet
Attain'd to either, freely may debate
Upon a subject, where both young and old
Are equally concern'd: I must be bold
To tell you then, of what you three have said,
And what our friend has spoke, that I have made
My own weak observations, and am now
Ready to show you, what I do allow,
What not, in all you've spoke.—
Then after all your learned reasoning,
Be pleas'd to hear my judgement of the thing.
Nor in high knowledge, (think you what you list)
For my part, I think one that has not yet
Attain'd to either, freely may debate
Upon a subject, where both young and old
Are equally concern'd: I must be bold
To tell you then, of what you three have said,
And what our friend has spoke, that I have made
My own weak observations, and am now
Ready to show you, what I do allow,
What not, in all you've spoke.—
Then after all your learned reasoning,
Be pleas'd to hear my judgement of the thing.
Why then, my friends, during your long debate,
I have observ'd your words, whilst you did state
The Question in hand, and eagerly
With all your art maintain'd the verity
Of your assertions: yet me thought, indeed
That all the while you never answered
The Arguments, which Job in his defence
Often adduc'd, to prove his innocence:
So well, and fully, as you might ha' done;
But that—
'Stead of refuting of what he maintain'd,
You rather fortin'd him, and have gain'd
Nothing as I perceive by this debate,
But rather seem by him to be defeat.
I have observ'd your words, whilst you did state
The Question in hand, and eagerly
With all your art maintain'd the verity
Of your assertions: yet me thought, indeed
That all the while you never answered
The Arguments, which Job in his defence
Often adduc'd, to prove his innocence:
So well, and fully, as you might ha' done;
But that—
'Stead of refuting of what he maintain'd,
You rather fortin'd him, and have gain'd
Nothing as I perceive by this debate,
But rather seem by him to be defeat.
For when I had considered all you spoke,
I found your reasons were but empty smoake:
And all your Arguments to me appear'd
But aeryknacks; for yet I have not heard
Any of you, for all your pungent wit,
In your discourse judiciously hit
Upon the point: as truth you should a'done,
And you shall hear how I shall do anon.
I found your reasons were but empty smoake:
And all your Arguments to me appear'd
But aeryknacks; for yet I have not heard
Any of you, for all your pungent wit,
In your discourse judiciously hit
Upon the point: as truth you should a'done,
And you shall hear how I shall do anon.
Then do not think that you have overcome
Job with your reasons, and have made him dumb
By force of argument, for what you said
That God was just, and only punished
Such as deserv'd; which you did all maintain
To be a maxime, and once, and again
VVould urge it strongly, truth I take to be
A point debatable; because I see
No inconsistence 'twixt the equity
Of God th'afflicter, and th'integrity
Of him, who is afflicted; for I know
God keeps a many worthy persons low,
For their own good; whom we must not conceive
To be offenders, or with you believe
That none but such do suffer: at this rate
You've argu'd all this while, but I shall state
The matter otherwise, and plainly show
That though this man were innocent, yet so
To bluster in his triall, and complain
Of his hard usage, as if he'd arraign
The God of justice, for iniquity
Is such a fault as none can justify.
Job with your reasons, and have made him dumb
By force of argument, for what you said
That God was just, and only punished
Such as deserv'd; which you did all maintain
To be a maxime, and once, and again
VVould urge it strongly, truth I take to be
A point debatable; because I see
No inconsistence 'twixt the equity
Of God th'afflicter, and th'integrity
Of him, who is afflicted; for I know
God keeps a many worthy persons low,
For their own good; whom we must not conceive
To be offenders, or with you believe
That none but such do suffer: at this rate
You've argu'd all this while, but I shall state
The matter otherwise, and plainly show
That though this man were innocent, yet so
To bluster in his triall, and complain
284
The God of justice, for iniquity
Is such a fault as none can justify.
Now then, my friends, as I am not engag'd
In quarrel with this man; nor have I stag'd
My self his opposit: and with such heat,
As you have done, mannag'd a long debate,
With one in his sad circumstances, so
I will not use your reasons, for I know
My friends distemper, and I will endeavour
By other means, then yours, to cure his feaver.
In quarrel with this man; nor have I stag'd
My self his opposit: and with such heat,
As you have done, mannag'd a long debate,
With one in his sad circumstances, so
I will not use your reasons, for I know
My friends distemper, and I will endeavour
By other means, then yours, to cure his feaver.
Especially, because I now perceive
You're silent, I have reason to believe
The heat of your sharp arguing now is spent,
And you'll no more pursue your argument.
You're silent, I have reason to believe
The heat of your sharp arguing now is spent,
And you'll no more pursue your argument.
For I expected, that in such a case,
Your language with your reason would encrease,
But now I see you're mute, and hold your peace.
Your language with your reason would encrease,
But now I see you're mute, and hold your peace.
I therefore think, 'tis now high time for me
To speake my thoughts, and let you plainly see
Your error in the subject, and defend
At least, in some points, our distressed friend.
To speake my thoughts, and let you plainly see
Your error in the subject, and defend
At least, in some points, our distressed friend.
For when my Makers honour lies at stake,
If ever, I am now oblig'd to speake,
I'm now oblig'd to speake; because I find
The spirit within me bids me speake my mind.
If ever, I am now oblig'd to speake,
I'm now oblig'd to speake; because I find
The spirit within me bids me speake my mind.
For as new wine in Bottles doth ferment,
And quickly bursts, if it doth find no vent,
So, if I speake not, what the spirit now,
In a well ord'red zeal doth promp me too,
I doubt my mind with matter so replete,
Will force a passage, and expatiate
It self in some disorder, or at least,
My words will issue through my very breast.
And quickly bursts, if it doth find no vent,
So, if I speake not, what the spirit now,
In a well ord'red zeal doth promp me too,
I doubt my mind with matter so replete,
Will force a passage, and expatiate
It self in some disorder, or at least,
My words will issue through my very breast.
That therefore to my numerous thoughts I may,
What e're be th'event, make some speedy way,
And so refresh my spirits, I must speake,
Though possibly in such a dialect,
As will not please both parties, yet I must
Expresse my mind, and truth I shall be just
To all of you, and so far, as I can,
Avoide to give offence to any man.
What e're be th'event, make some speedy way,
And so refresh my spirits, I must speake,
Though possibly in such a dialect,
As will not please both parties, yet I must
Expresse my mind, and truth I shall be just
To all of you, and so far, as I can,
Avoide to give offence to any man.
But I must tell you that you may expect,
My mind I will impartially speak;
I'll flatter none of you, but will expresse
With freedom. what I think upon the case:
Without regard to this poor man, who lies
On Dung-hill now, and whom all men despise,
Or you, who think your selves extreamly wise.
My mind I will impartially speak;
I'll flatter none of you, but will expresse
With freedom. what I think upon the case:
Without regard to this poor man, who lies
On Dung-hill now, and whom all men despise,
Or you, who think your selves extreamly wise.
For I could never to this hour perswade
My self on any terms to learn the trade
Of flattering, especially where
The Cause of God's in hand, for there, O there,
Without regard to men, I must be free,
As all of my Profession should be.
Else, if I should at any time forbear
To speak, what God commands me, out of fear,
Of any Earthly Power, or meanly shrink
At threats of any, I might justly think,
I were unworthy of that Character
Which all that speak by inspiration bear.
My self on any terms to learn the trade
Of flattering, especially where
The Cause of God's in hand, for there, O there,
Without regard to men, I must be free,
285
Else, if I should at any time forbear
To speak, what God commands me, out of fear,
Of any Earthly Power, or meanly shrink
At threats of any, I might justly think,
I were unworthy of that Character
Which all that speak by inspiration bear.
| The grand Tryal | |