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. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| V. | PART. V. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
 | The grand Tryal |  |
V. PART. V.
Cap. XXXVIII.
The Storm increasing, and the Clouds appearing
Still to augment the Darkness, stead of clearing,
The Thunder roaring, and the Lightning flying
Before the face of God so terrifying,
As both th'afflicted man, his friends, and those,
Who then were present, firmly did suppose
This threatning Storm would suddenly renverse
The goodly Fabrick of the Universe:
At least they fancied those distracted Clouds
Would shake out quickly most prodigious Flouds
On th'Earth, and by a Deluge general,
As once before, again o'rewhelm them all.
Still to augment the Darkness, stead of clearing,
The Thunder roaring, and the Lightning flying
Before the face of God so terrifying,
As both th'afflicted man, his friends, and those,
Who then were present, firmly did suppose
This threatning Storm would suddenly renverse
The goodly Fabrick of the Universe:
At least they fancied those distracted Clouds
Would shake out quickly most prodigious Flouds
On th'Earth, and by a Deluge general,
As once before, again o'rewhelm them all.
In these sad apprehensions, damp'd with fear,
At length out of the Whirlwind, they could hear,
After the ceasing of that dreadful noise,
A soft, but most intelligible Voice:
A Voice so audible, a Voice so free,
A Voice, which all could hear, but none could see
The mighty Speaker.—
And now both Plaintiffs, and Defendant too
Undone with horrour, could, with much ado,
Retain their spirits, when they see indeed
That God himself to Justice would proceed,
Himself in Person, and determine what
Had been th'occasion of so much debate:
Whilst none of 'em would yield t'each other, none
Would be determin'd but by God alone.
He therefore, to make all their jarrings cease,
Doth thus at length give judgment on the Case.
At length out of the Whirlwind, they could hear,
After the ceasing of that dreadful noise,
A soft, but most intelligible Voice:
A Voice so audible, a Voice so free,
A Voice, which all could hear, but none could see
The mighty Speaker.—
And now both Plaintiffs, and Defendant too
Undone with horrour, could, with much ado,
Retain their spirits, when they see indeed
That God himself to Justice would proceed,
Himself in Person, and determine what
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Whilst none of 'em would yield t'each other, none
Would be determin'd but by God alone.
He therefore, to make all their jarrings cease,
Doth thus at length give judgment on the Case.
Who's he, says God, presumes thus to debate,
On what I've ordred? who is he dares state
Himself my Party? who's the man?—who's he,
That offers to debate the Case with me?
Who, who's the man, that, with such insolence,
Dares canvass thus my acts of Providence?
Who's he, to whom I've given life, and breath,
Dares utter such rebellious words of Death?
Show me the man, you Slaves, amongst you all,
That dares what I design in question call?
Because forsooth, in kindness, I've bestow'd
A little Reason on you, you grow proud:
Why could not I, you Things profusely vain,
At first have made you Beasts as well as Men,
Nay cannot I reduce you all again
To your first Principles, and let you see
All your Subsistence doth depend on me?
Why then?—
Should such, as I from nothing did create,
Presume to be my Secretars of State?
Should such as you, whom I've distinguished
From other Creatures, offer to implead
That Power, which made you such? or when you meet
In your wise Consults, offer to debate
On my Proceedings? should such Wasps, as you
Dare but repine at any thing I do?
Should such as only by my favour live,
Presume to quarrel my Prerogative?
Can any humane Reason comprehend
What I have done, or what I do intend?
No—know, all of you, I'me your God, and King,
No more then of your foolish reasoning.
On what I've ordred? who is he dares state
Himself my Party? who's the man?—who's he,
That offers to debate the Case with me?
Who, who's the man, that, with such insolence,
Dares canvass thus my acts of Providence?
Who's he, to whom I've given life, and breath,
Dares utter such rebellious words of Death?
Show me the man, you Slaves, amongst you all,
That dares what I design in question call?
Because forsooth, in kindness, I've bestow'd
A little Reason on you, you grow proud:
Why could not I, you Things profusely vain,
At first have made you Beasts as well as Men,
Nay cannot I reduce you all again
To your first Principles, and let you see
All your Subsistence doth depend on me?
Why then?—
Should such, as I from nothing did create,
Presume to be my Secretars of State?
Should such as you, whom I've distinguished
From other Creatures, offer to implead
That Power, which made you such? or when you meet
In your wise Consults, offer to debate
On my Proceedings? should such Wasps, as you
Dare but repine at any thing I do?
Should such as only by my favour live,
Presume to quarrel my Prerogative?
Can any humane Reason comprehend
What I have done, or what I do intend?
No—know, all of you, I'me your God, and King,
No more then of your foolish reasoning.
Now as for thee, thou Job, whom I did raise,
And let thee see a deal of golden Days,
Who of all earthly blessings mad'st collection,
And liv'd most happy under my protection,
Enjoying all thou couldst project, yet now,
Thou ungrate man, thou must be prating too:
Thou must be medling with my Providence,
And asking Questions, with great impudence,
Why I permit this, or that man to live,
At their convenience, and all blessings give
To such, as do not merit at my hand,
Whilst others at my doors, unserved stand,
Whose Piety did merit better things?
And so proceeds in foolish murmurings
Against my Actings: nay thou dost proceed
To greater hights: and dost desire to plead
Thy Case with me, and that so freely too,
As one man with another man would do.
I've heard thee all this while, with patience,
Make formal Harrangues on thy innocence:
I've heard thee speak, and argue all along
Against me, as if I had done thee wrong.
Because I did think fit to change thy state,
Therefore in passion thou'd expostulate
With me for doing so: since then thou hast
So oft deni'd to plead with me, at last
Shalt have thy wish: and since thou wilt not be
Convinc'd by those, who have discours'd with thee
By my appointment, and will yeeld to none
In thy opinions, but to me alone—
—It shall be so:—I'le argue now the case
My self with thee, and show thee in thy face
How thou hast err'd, I'le let thee plainly see
I am not such as men take me to be,
But am, what neither thou, nor any thing
That breaths on earth from woman issuing
Can comprehend.—
Go too then Job, behave thee, like a man,
I'le ask the question, answer if thou can.
And let thee see a deal of golden Days,
Who of all earthly blessings mad'st collection,
And liv'd most happy under my protection,
Enjoying all thou couldst project, yet now,
Thou ungrate man, thou must be prating too:
Thou must be medling with my Providence,
And asking Questions, with great impudence,
Why I permit this, or that man to live,
At their convenience, and all blessings give
To such, as do not merit at my hand,
Whilst others at my doors, unserved stand,
Whose Piety did merit better things?
And so proceeds in foolish murmurings
Against my Actings: nay thou dost proceed
To greater hights: and dost desire to plead
Thy Case with me, and that so freely too,
331
I've heard thee all this while, with patience,
Make formal Harrangues on thy innocence:
I've heard thee speak, and argue all along
Against me, as if I had done thee wrong.
Because I did think fit to change thy state,
Therefore in passion thou'd expostulate
With me for doing so: since then thou hast
So oft deni'd to plead with me, at last
Shalt have thy wish: and since thou wilt not be
Convinc'd by those, who have discours'd with thee
By my appointment, and will yeeld to none
In thy opinions, but to me alone—
—It shall be so:—I'le argue now the case
My self with thee, and show thee in thy face
How thou hast err'd, I'le let thee plainly see
I am not such as men take me to be,
But am, what neither thou, nor any thing
That breaths on earth from woman issuing
Can comprehend.—
Go too then Job, behave thee, like a man,
I'le ask the question, answer if thou can.
Say then, poor mortal man, where wast thou—say
When I at first did Earths Foundations lay?
Where wast thou pray, hadst thou a beeing then?
Didst thou exist, wast thou created when
I did this Glorious Work at first commence,
And ordered all things so by Providence;
As I no sooner did this thing intend,
Than instantly the work was at an end.
When I at first did Earths Foundations lay?
Where wast thou pray, hadst thou a beeing then?
Didst thou exist, wast thou created when
I did this Glorious Work at first commence,
And ordered all things so by Providence;
As I no sooner did this thing intend,
Than instantly the work was at an end.
Who did the Model of this World design?
Who drew the Plan thereof? who stretcht the Line
From Pole, to Pole, on which as all may see,
It yet doth roul, as on an Axel-tree.
Who measur'd out at first the vast extent
Of this huge Glob? or by what instrument
Was all, that now the universe is nam'd,
At first into a perfect Circle fram'd?
Who drew the Plan thereof? who stretcht the Line
From Pole, to Pole, on which as all may see,
It yet doth roul, as on an Axel-tree.
Who measur'd out at first the vast extent
Of this huge Glob? or by what instrument
Was all, that now the universe is nam'd,
At first into a perfect Circle fram'd?
Upon what grounds are the Foundations laid
Of this great Fabrick, which my hands have made?
Canst thou, O man, by all thy art find out
On what this Glob of earth doth rest? I doubt
Thou never canst imagine how a thing
Of so much weight, i'th' open air can hing,
Without some Nail, on which by Chain or String,
Such a vast ponderous body should depend:
I know this doth thy reason quite transcend.
Dost know how every Atome doth support
Each other in that Mass in such a sort,
As no part upon any part doth rest,
Nor are light parts by heavy parts deprest,
But altogether solid, firm, and sure,
Ly in one lump, by Æquilibrature:
And for the Air, that subtile, fluid, thing,
Which 'bout this Orb, like a soft rind, doth cling,
And fills up every waste, hole pore, or chink,
That's in this Glob; what dost thou of it think,
Dost think that can so great a weight sustain,
That in its own sphere doth subsist with pain
Shattered each hour, by Thunder, Lightning, Rain,
No truely, it doth upon nothing rest,
So that all your opinions at the best
Of the supporters of this earthen Ball
Are but mere notions, and conjectures all.
Of this great Fabrick, which my hands have made?
Canst thou, O man, by all thy art find out
On what this Glob of earth doth rest? I doubt
Thou never canst imagine how a thing
Of so much weight, i'th' open air can hing,
Without some Nail, on which by Chain or String,
Such a vast ponderous body should depend:
I know this doth thy reason quite transcend.
Dost know how every Atome doth support
Each other in that Mass in such a sort,
As no part upon any part doth rest,
Nor are light parts by heavy parts deprest,
But altogether solid, firm, and sure,
Ly in one lump, by Æquilibrature:
And for the Air, that subtile, fluid, thing,
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And fills up every waste, hole pore, or chink,
That's in this Glob; what dost thou of it think,
Dost think that can so great a weight sustain,
That in its own sphere doth subsist with pain
Shattered each hour, by Thunder, Lightning, Rain,
No truely, it doth upon nothing rest,
So that all your opinions at the best
Of the supporters of this earthen Ball
Are but mere notions, and conjectures all.
Then where wer't thou when I at first did lay
The Worlds Foundations, when the blushing Day
Did first appear, and all my numerous croud
Of Angels did for joy cry out aloud,
When they perceiv'd all I had done was good.
Where wast thou pray, when all that now thy Eye
Perceives distinct did in confusion ly.
The Worlds Foundations, when the blushing Day
Did first appear, and all my numerous croud
Of Angels did for joy cry out aloud,
When they perceiv'd all I had done was good.
Where wast thou pray, when all that now thy Eye
Perceives distinct did in confusion ly.
When the luxuriant Seas did issue out
Of Natures pregnant womb, and grasp'd about
The spongious Earth so close, as by the Flouds
Its face was covered, as 'tis now by Clouds:
When then in these the Earth lay sopp'd around,
And nothing like dry Land was to be found,
All being under Water.—
Who did their rage (else boundless) limitate,
And within doors, as 'twere incarcerate
Those furious Seas, which now with all their power
Cannot o'reflow Earths surface to this hour.
Of Natures pregnant womb, and grasp'd about
The spongious Earth so close, as by the Flouds
Its face was covered, as 'tis now by Clouds:
When then in these the Earth lay sopp'd around,
And nothing like dry Land was to be found,
All being under Water.—
Who did their rage (else boundless) limitate,
And within doors, as 'twere incarcerate
Those furious Seas, which now with all their power
Cannot o'reflow Earths surface to this hour.
Who was it then that first this Earth did drain,
And from the Land so separate the main,
As they should never be unite again?
Who was it pray? dost know? why it was I,
Thy God, and Maker: I did speedily
As with a swadling Band of darkest Clouds,
Ty up those Infant, and disordered Flouds.
Then in a distinct body I did frame
Those rouling Waves, and them a Sea did name.
I cast them off the Earth, and by and by
I did assign them a Locality,
In which they might thereafter domineer
And roar their fill, but never more appear
Upon the Earth, and overwhelm the Land
Without my warrand, and express command.
And from the Land so separate the main,
As they should never be unite again?
Who was it pray? dost know? why it was I,
Thy God, and Maker: I did speedily
As with a swadling Band of darkest Clouds,
Ty up those Infant, and disordered Flouds.
Then in a distinct body I did frame
Those rouling Waves, and them a Sea did name.
I cast them off the Earth, and by and by
I did assign them a Locality,
In which they might thereafter domineer
And roar their fill, but never more appear
Upon the Earth, and overwhelm the Land
Without my warrand, and express command.
Such bounds I for these Billows measured out
As I thought good, and fenc'd them round about,
With earthen Ramparts, such as might expell
Their fury, when they should begin to swell,
And make them tamely within bounds contain,
For all their lofty pride, and numerous train,
Assaulting oft these Ramparts, but in vain.
As I thought good, and fenc'd them round about,
With earthen Ramparts, such as might expell
Their fury, when they should begin to swell,
And make them tamely within bounds contain,
For all their lofty pride, and numerous train,
Assaulting oft these Ramparts, but in vain.
I said unto them—thus far shall you go:
No further, in High Spring-tydes shall you flow,
I charge you that you do encroach no more
Upon the Earth, this Line shall be your Shore.
No further, in High Spring-tydes shall you flow,
I charge you that you do encroach no more
Upon the Earth, this Line shall be your Shore.
333
Dost know what light is pray, or to what end
Both this, and darknesse, I on Earth did send?
Dost know the reasons, which made me conclude
At first upon this strange vicissitude
Of day and night? or why I overspread
The glorious face of Earth, which I have made
With clouds of darkness? so that what of late
Appear'd in a most beauteous pomp, and state,
Whilst light did shine, and feasted curious eyes,
With all the choice, and rich varieties.
That heart could wish, doth suddainly appear
An object, not of pleasure, but of fear?
When then the Sun is gone, when he is fled,
And darknesse doth the face of Earth o'respread:
Canst thou command him to return, with light,
T'allay the horrour of a Winters night?
Or canst thou hire him to diffuse his rays
Before his time? didst ever in thy days,
Attempt such a light wind-mill enterprise,
As to make day spring e're the morning rise.
Both this, and darknesse, I on Earth did send?
Dost know the reasons, which made me conclude
At first upon this strange vicissitude
Of day and night? or why I overspread
The glorious face of Earth, which I have made
With clouds of darkness? so that what of late
Appear'd in a most beauteous pomp, and state,
Whilst light did shine, and feasted curious eyes,
With all the choice, and rich varieties.
That heart could wish, doth suddainly appear
An object, not of pleasure, but of fear?
When then the Sun is gone, when he is fled,
And darknesse doth the face of Earth o'respread:
Canst thou command him to return, with light,
T'allay the horrour of a Winters night?
Or canst thou hire him to diffuse his rays
Before his time? didst ever in thy days,
Attempt such a light wind-mill enterprise,
As to make day spring e're the morning rise.
But when this Sun by my command appears
Upon Earths utmost confines, and still bears
Upward to his full Orb:—
Then doth your darknesse quickly steal away,
With all its allies, at the break of day,
For when the Sun out of his sleep awakes,
Those things like downs from coverlet he shakes,
Which do in darknesse trade: at sight o'th' Sun
Night-walkers, into holes, and corners run.
Upon Earths utmost confines, and still bears
Upward to his full Orb:—
Then doth your darknesse quickly steal away,
With all its allies, at the break of day,
For when the Sun out of his sleep awakes,
Those things like downs from coverlet he shakes,
Which do in darknesse trade: at sight o'th' Sun
Night-walkers, into holes, and corners run.
Whilst th'Earth, which by its absence void of light,
Shut up behind the curtains of the night,
Appear'd without all form; at break of day,
As upon washen, and well tempered Clay,
A new impression brightly doth appear,
Is in her morning dresse, most bright, and clear.
Shut up behind the curtains of the night,
Appear'd without all form; at break of day,
As upon washen, and well tempered Clay,
A new impression brightly doth appear,
Is in her morning dresse, most bright, and clear.
At break of day, the labourer breaks his rest,
And to the field, with every working beast,
He cheerfully doth march: nothing afraid,
Because pursuing of his lawful trade.
Whilst Drunkards, Gamesters, Whores, Adulterers,
Murderers, Lifters, Thieves, and Burglarers,
Who in the night-time do their businesse,
Assoon's the Sun begins to show his face,
Run all into their lurking holes annon,
And at the break of day they're broke, and gone.
And to the field, with every working beast,
He cheerfully doth march: nothing afraid,
Because pursuing of his lawful trade.
Whilst Drunkards, Gamesters, Whores, Adulterers,
Murderers, Lifters, Thieves, and Burglarers,
Who in the night-time do their businesse,
Assoon's the Sun begins to show his face,
Run all into their lurking holes annon,
And at the break of day they're broke, and gone.
Next, as to darknesse:—dost thou comprehend
What thing that is? or what I do intend
By this privation, what's the use of it?
What is its scope? for what end is it fit?
Sure thou who understand'st not what is light,
Which every day is obvious to thy sight,
Canst never understand obscurity,
A thing that's not perceptible by th'eye.
Didst ever into the Seas bottom dive?
Or canst thou yet, with all thy art contrive
A way to trace, and measure the extent
Of that dark Land? or know what Government
Is us'd by th'Planters of these Provinces,
Situate in the bottom of the Seas?
Dost know the Springs, and Conduits, that supply
With fresh recruits of Water constantly
The restless Ocean? pray now let me hear,
Dost know what things the weeping sources are;
Dost understand these things? or dost thou know
How from the Seas all Springs and Rivers flow.
What thing that is? or what I do intend
By this privation, what's the use of it?
What is its scope? for what end is it fit?
Sure thou who understand'st not what is light,
Which every day is obvious to thy sight,
Canst never understand obscurity,
A thing that's not perceptible by th'eye.
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Or canst thou yet, with all thy art contrive
A way to trace, and measure the extent
Of that dark Land? or know what Government
Is us'd by th'Planters of these Provinces,
Situate in the bottom of the Seas?
Dost know the Springs, and Conduits, that supply
With fresh recruits of Water constantly
The restless Ocean? pray now let me hear,
Dost know what things the weeping sources are;
Dost understand these things? or dost thou know
How from the Seas all Springs and Rivers flow.
In all thy life-time hast thou ever seen
Deaths gates cast open? has thou never been
Conversant under ground? didst e're descry
That dreadful prospect of mortality,
Of those who scattered in earths bowels ly?
Did e're thy curiosity lead thee there?
No, at the gates sure thou hadst dy'd for fear.
Deaths gates cast open? has thou never been
Conversant under ground? didst e're descry
That dreadful prospect of mortality,
Of those who scattered in earths bowels ly?
Did e're thy curiosity lead thee there?
No, at the gates sure thou hadst dy'd for fear.
Dost know earth's true Diameter, canst tell
How far in breadth its Globous bulk doth swell?
Canst see both Poles at once by art, or can
Thy eye discover each Meridian?
How far in breadth its Globous bulk doth swell?
Canst see both Poles at once by art, or can
Thy eye discover each Meridian?
Go to then, canst thou point the place, from whence
Light doth proceed? dost know its residence?
Dost know the Cave where darkness doth reside,
And closly all the day it self doth hide?
Light doth proceed? dost know its residence?
Dost know the Cave where darkness doth reside,
And closly all the day it self doth hide?
That thou shouldst trace the way to its abode,
And through the windings of that dreadful road
Find a safe passage to its dwelling place,
And take the picture of its duskly face?
And through the windings of that dreadful road
Find a safe passage to its dwelling place,
And take the picture of its duskly face?
I think thou dost not know, nor canst declare
What things, O man! the light and darkness are
Because when I created night, and day,
Thou in the belly of first matter lay.
Th'hadst not a beeing then, thou wast not made,
When light, and darkness I distinguished.
Nor canst thou know more, by experience,
Then that both this, and that affect thy sense,
But what they are, from what hid cause they flow,
No art, no length of dayes, can make thee know.
What things, O man! the light and darkness are
Because when I created night, and day,
Thou in the belly of first matter lay.
Th'hadst not a beeing then, thou wast not made,
When light, and darkness I distinguished.
Nor canst thou know more, by experience,
Then that both this, and that affect thy sense,
But what they are, from what hid cause they flow,
No art, no length of dayes, can make thee know.
Hast thou observ'd, with a computing eye,
At any time, and viewed seriously
Th'innumerable stores of Snow, and Hail,
Which I do keep in Heav'ns great Arsenal?
At any time, and viewed seriously
Th'innumerable stores of Snow, and Hail,
Which I do keep in Heav'ns great Arsenal?
Hast view'd those inexhaustible provisions,
How they are stor'd in several divisions?
So that when I intend a war with those
Who on this earth do my decrees oppose:
Sometimes I use the one, sometimes the other,
As I think fit, and sometimes both together,
By force of both, or either, in a trice
I break the force of my proud enemies.
How they are stor'd in several divisions?
So that when I intend a war with those
Who on this earth do my decrees oppose:
Sometimes I use the one, sometimes the other,
As I think fit, and sometimes both together,
By force of both, or either, in a trice
I break the force of my proud enemies.
335
Dost understand how Lightnings separate
The Clouds of Wind: and quickly dissipate
The strongest Bodies of these vaporous foes,
Which do the fury of their course oppose?
Dost understand this thing, or dost thou know
Why wind doth sometimes from one quarter blow,
Sometimes out of another, East, or West,
South, North, Nore-west, South-west, or South-South-east.
The Clouds of Wind: and quickly dissipate
The strongest Bodies of these vaporous foes,
Which do the fury of their course oppose?
Dost understand this thing, or dost thou know
Why wind doth sometimes from one quarter blow,
Sometimes out of another, East, or West,
South, North, Nore-west, South-west, or South-South-east.
Who doth restrain the torrents of those flouds,
Which after Thunder break from broken Clouds,
In such abundant streams, without cessation,
As men do fear a total inundation.
Who makes deep Canals, into which convey'd
Those Waters, as in Levels, gently slide,
Both above ground, and under ground with ease,
Into the bottome of the spacious Seas?
Which after Thunder break from broken Clouds,
In such abundant streams, without cessation,
As men do fear a total inundation.
Who makes deep Canals, into which convey'd
Those Waters, as in Levels, gently slide,
Both above ground, and under ground with ease,
Into the bottome of the spacious Seas?
Who makes the Clouds above thy head retain
Great quantities of Waters, and, in rain,
As from a Sponge, thus shake them out again.
And that not only upon fertile ground,
But on the Deserts, where no man is found.
Great quantities of Waters, and, in rain,
As from a Sponge, thus shake them out again.
And that not only upon fertile ground,
But on the Deserts, where no man is found.
That in due season, they may pasture yield
To all the beasts, that feed upon the field:
And feed those creatures too, whose idleness
Makes them frequent the barren wilderness,
As also make the Vegetables sprout,
And in their Leaves, and Flowers, shoot fairly out
From the earths belly, where they buried were
Until the Mid-wife-Season of the year
By help of rain doth bring them forth, and spreads
Through all the fields the product of those Seeds.
To all the beasts, that feed upon the field:
And feed those creatures too, whose idleness
Makes them frequent the barren wilderness,
As also make the Vegetables sprout,
And in their Leaves, and Flowers, shoot fairly out
From the earths belly, where they buried were
Until the Mid-wife-Season of the year
By help of rain doth bring them forth, and spreads
Through all the fields the product of those Seeds.
Now, if thou think'st this rain is procreat
As other creatures are, who did beget
This useful thing? or who supposest thou
Did procreat the Christal drops of dew?
By which the Labourer rising from his bed,
Perceives his grounds all kindly watered.
And then, as if the Sun had only sent
Those little cordial drops, to complement
The widdowed earth, that doth his absence mourn,
And in sad veil, did long for his return,
With warming beams, he suddenly doth drain
The earth, and sucks up all those drops again.
As other creatures are, who did beget
This useful thing? or who supposest thou
Did procreat the Christal drops of dew?
By which the Labourer rising from his bed,
Perceives his grounds all kindly watered.
And then, as if the Sun had only sent
Those little cordial drops, to complement
The widdowed earth, that doth his absence mourn,
And in sad veil, did long for his return,
With warming beams, he suddenly doth drain
The earth, and sucks up all those drops again.
Dost know what Ice is? whence the same proceeds?
Who did beget it? in what womb it breeds.
'Tis worth thy knowledge (though thou knew no more)
To understand this costive Meteor.
Who did beget it? in what womb it breeds.
'Tis worth thy knowledge (though thou knew no more)
To understand this costive Meteor.
Dost see the Rivers, how they sweetly pass
In gentle streams through pleasant fields of grass,
Whilst Trees, and Shrubs, which in their Banks do grow,
By their reflex, do make a goodly show,
Upon the Waters, so transparent clear,
As through the Streams the very Skyes appear:
These same pellucid Rivers, in a trice
You may see covered with a crust of Ice:
And what was lately soft, appear annon
As hard, and solid, as if pav'd with stone:
Nay, even the Seas; who not long time before
Did break their curled Waves, upon the Shore,
And round the Earth triumph'd with so much pride,
Spreading their boistrous Billows, far, and wide:
As if the power of the restraining Ice,
(Which fetters in-land floods) they did despise:
These very Seas at length are forc'd to bow
To conquering Ice, and they are frozen too:
So that where tallest Ships did lately steer,
Now Sledges, Carts, and Waggons do appear:
Nay, as upon firm Land with all their force,
Whole armies in battalia, foot, and horse,
Securely march along the frozen Seas,
Fighting, retiring, scirmishing with ease.
Hast then observ'd this? can'st assign a reason,
Why waters are bound up so in their season?
Or to what end, I make the Rivers freeze,
And thus incrustate even the raging Seas?
In gentle streams through pleasant fields of grass,
Whilst Trees, and Shrubs, which in their Banks do grow,
By their reflex, do make a goodly show,
Upon the Waters, so transparent clear,
As through the Streams the very Skyes appear:
These same pellucid Rivers, in a trice
336
And what was lately soft, appear annon
As hard, and solid, as if pav'd with stone:
Nay, even the Seas; who not long time before
Did break their curled Waves, upon the Shore,
And round the Earth triumph'd with so much pride,
Spreading their boistrous Billows, far, and wide:
As if the power of the restraining Ice,
(Which fetters in-land floods) they did despise:
These very Seas at length are forc'd to bow
To conquering Ice, and they are frozen too:
So that where tallest Ships did lately steer,
Now Sledges, Carts, and Waggons do appear:
Nay, as upon firm Land with all their force,
Whole armies in battalia, foot, and horse,
Securely march along the frozen Seas,
Fighting, retiring, scirmishing with ease.
Hast then observ'd this? can'st assign a reason,
Why waters are bound up so in their season?
Or to what end, I make the Rivers freeze,
And thus incrustate even the raging Seas?
Indeed vain mortals, you do all pretend
By philosophick rules to comprehend
The nature of all Meteors, and know
By second causes, whence they all do flow:
As when such constellations do appear,
You guesse the several seasons of the year,
As this the Spring, that Summer, Harvest that
And this cold Winter doth insinuat:
'Cause their appearance is habitual,
And custom teaches you: but that is all
You understand: you know that such things are,
Because to you they frequently appear:
But who's the man can tell? who's he doth know
The reason why these Stars themselves do show
At such set times? art thou the man? can'st thou
With all thy curious art demonstrat how
The Stars were made? why some of them appear
In modell'd bodies, others here, and there
Are singly scattered in the Heavens? dost know
Why some are fix't, some ramble to, and fro
In their own Orbs, and why too some of these
Consume as many years, as others days
In running out their course? dost understand
The reason of these things? can'st thou command
These Stars? or make the meanest of 'em all
Forbear their course? or vanish at thy call?
Canst thou restrain the sweet influences,
And pleasant aspects of the Pleiades,
Who, when the Sun in Taurus doth appear,
Calmly, and gently usher in the year?
Or when the sullen, barbarous Orion
Attended by an host of storms, leads on
The dreadful Winter, which o're runs you all
And makes you with ingeminat groans recall
Your ever kind (but then far distant) Sun
To your assistance, else you're all undone
With killing cold.—
When this same Orion doth then appear
In wasting terrour to shut up the year;
And bury all in Snow, can'st thou restrain
His violence, and force him back again?
Can'st thou repell the fury of his Winds,
His Rains, his Hail, and Tempests of all kinds?
And make that ne're yet conquered Constellation
Draw off his Troops with fear, and consternation?
By philosophick rules to comprehend
The nature of all Meteors, and know
By second causes, whence they all do flow:
As when such constellations do appear,
You guesse the several seasons of the year,
As this the Spring, that Summer, Harvest that
And this cold Winter doth insinuat:
'Cause their appearance is habitual,
And custom teaches you: but that is all
You understand: you know that such things are,
Because to you they frequently appear:
But who's the man can tell? who's he doth know
The reason why these Stars themselves do show
At such set times? art thou the man? can'st thou
With all thy curious art demonstrat how
The Stars were made? why some of them appear
In modell'd bodies, others here, and there
Are singly scattered in the Heavens? dost know
Why some are fix't, some ramble to, and fro
In their own Orbs, and why too some of these
Consume as many years, as others days
In running out their course? dost understand
The reason of these things? can'st thou command
These Stars? or make the meanest of 'em all
Forbear their course? or vanish at thy call?
Canst thou restrain the sweet influences,
And pleasant aspects of the Pleiades,
Who, when the Sun in Taurus doth appear,
Calmly, and gently usher in the year?
Or when the sullen, barbarous Orion
Attended by an host of storms, leads on
The dreadful Winter, which o're runs you all
337
Your ever kind (but then far distant) Sun
To your assistance, else you're all undone
With killing cold.—
When this same Orion doth then appear
In wasting terrour to shut up the year;
And bury all in Snow, can'st thou restrain
His violence, and force him back again?
Can'st thou repell the fury of his Winds,
His Rains, his Hail, and Tempests of all kinds?
And make that ne're yet conquered Constellation
Draw off his Troops with fear, and consternation?
Can'st, in his season bring out Mazzaroth
That torrid Constellation of the South,
And make him in his Summer garb appear,
To celebrate the Solstice of the year?
Say—canst thou make this Constellation shine,
This Canis major which beyond the Line
Lyes quartered, and from its pleasant seat
Draws out but as a Summer guard, to wait
Upon the motion of the glorious Sun
What time he his three greatest heats doth run.
Can'st thou by Art a certain survey make
Of all the Chambers in the Zodiack,
That spacious Colledge, that magnificent
And stately Inns of Court; that eminent
And princely Fabrick of great excellence;
Where the Twelve Signs do keep their residence.
And though they hold their chief Demeurage there,
Yet in their several Circuits, appear
The twelve conspicuous Judges of the Year.
Each Month, by turns: attended by no less,
Then the bright Sun himself, with all his rays,
Who for the time keeps House, with each of them;
Then what can'st say to this? would thou reclaim
Against this order? or in spite, decry
This method? can'st thou by authority
Inhibite their procedure? and allow
No such Appartments but to one, or two
Of all the twelve?—
Or can'st thou make the Sun, per saltum, pass
Into the Rams head, from the Ballances?
And baulking the five Melancholly Signs,
(In which he rather looks a squint, then shines)
Make him continue his warm influence
In every corner of the Earth, and thence,
By that new, heretofore unknowen device,
Evite the trouble of the Winters Ice.
Canst make the Northern Stars live orderly,
And rule Arcturus, with his Family?
Who in the Harvest season doth appear,
Attended with his great, and little Bear,
And th'other Troops of the Septentrions,
Drawen out of all his Northern Garisons,
T'invest, as't were, the year, whilst Orion
With the main body follows quickly on?
That torrid Constellation of the South,
And make him in his Summer garb appear,
To celebrate the Solstice of the year?
Say—canst thou make this Constellation shine,
This Canis major which beyond the Line
Lyes quartered, and from its pleasant seat
Draws out but as a Summer guard, to wait
Upon the motion of the glorious Sun
What time he his three greatest heats doth run.
Can'st thou by Art a certain survey make
Of all the Chambers in the Zodiack,
That spacious Colledge, that magnificent
And stately Inns of Court; that eminent
And princely Fabrick of great excellence;
Where the Twelve Signs do keep their residence.
And though they hold their chief Demeurage there,
Yet in their several Circuits, appear
The twelve conspicuous Judges of the Year.
Each Month, by turns: attended by no less,
Then the bright Sun himself, with all his rays,
Who for the time keeps House, with each of them;
Then what can'st say to this? would thou reclaim
Against this order? or in spite, decry
This method? can'st thou by authority
Inhibite their procedure? and allow
No such Appartments but to one, or two
Of all the twelve?—
Or can'st thou make the Sun, per saltum, pass
Into the Rams head, from the Ballances?
And baulking the five Melancholly Signs,
(In which he rather looks a squint, then shines)
Make him continue his warm influence
In every corner of the Earth, and thence,
By that new, heretofore unknowen device,
Evite the trouble of the Winters Ice.
Canst make the Northern Stars live orderly,
And rule Arcturus, with his Family?
Who in the Harvest season doth appear,
Attended with his great, and little Bear,
And th'other Troops of the Septentrions,
Drawen out of all his Northern Garisons,
338
With the main body follows quickly on?
Canst make celestial bodies influence
Bodies sublunary? dost' know from whence
That rich, but hidden Virtue doth proceed,
Which 'mongst you mortals, strange effects doth breed?
Whilst some Diseases, others Health, afford:
Some fair, and some foul weather, in a word
Each constellation in its aspect bears
A consequence of either hopes, or feares.
But not a cause: for that to me alone
Belongs, which I communicate to none,
Whom I've created: for in sober sense,
These Stars have in themselves no influence
On any thing, but as determined
By second Causes, which are furnished
By my appointment, and the Subject Matter,
With which they meet.—
Yet, I know some of you (sad Creatures too)
Pretend by study to demonstrare how
All things are ordered in my Cabinet,
Ere they be brought to action, and relate,
By knowledge of these Stars, strange passages
Of my designs, long e're they came to pass:
Fools! whence have you so good intelligence
Of my intents, and purposes? from whence
Have you this knowledge? is it from the Stars?
D'ye think such mean things are my Counsellers?
That such as these forsooth should be acquaint
With the deep Intrigues of my Government?
Presumptuous Mortals! that you thus should dare
To think you know what my intentions are,
When your own Reason fully may convince
You of your folly: for if even a Prince,
Of my creation, that on Earth doth dwell,
And must make use of Council, can so well
Conceal his Secrets, as what he intends,
Is neither knowen to Enemies, nor Friends:
How think you then.—
That I, who use no Council in the least,
But that which doth reside within my breast,
Should of my Secrets take so little care,
As any thing in Heavens, Earth, Sea, or Air,
Nay even my Angels, who my Court attend
Should e're discover what I do intend,
But from my Mouth? yet from a silly Star,
With which you correspond, of Peace, and War
Intended Famine, Fire, or Pestilence,
You Mortals have all your intelligence:
Would not you of that States-man make a sport,
Who from the Lacqueys of a Princes Court,
Pretended he did draw intelligence,
Of all his Cabin-councils, and from thence
Would take his measures? pray what else are those,
With whom you correspond, do you suppose
That I make any other use of these,
But as of Grooms, to carry Messages?
Bodies sublunary? dost' know from whence
That rich, but hidden Virtue doth proceed,
Which 'mongst you mortals, strange effects doth breed?
Whilst some Diseases, others Health, afford:
Some fair, and some foul weather, in a word
Each constellation in its aspect bears
A consequence of either hopes, or feares.
But not a cause: for that to me alone
Belongs, which I communicate to none,
Whom I've created: for in sober sense,
These Stars have in themselves no influence
On any thing, but as determined
By second Causes, which are furnished
By my appointment, and the Subject Matter,
With which they meet.—
Yet, I know some of you (sad Creatures too)
Pretend by study to demonstrare how
All things are ordered in my Cabinet,
Ere they be brought to action, and relate,
By knowledge of these Stars, strange passages
Of my designs, long e're they came to pass:
Fools! whence have you so good intelligence
Of my intents, and purposes? from whence
Have you this knowledge? is it from the Stars?
D'ye think such mean things are my Counsellers?
That such as these forsooth should be acquaint
With the deep Intrigues of my Government?
Presumptuous Mortals! that you thus should dare
To think you know what my intentions are,
When your own Reason fully may convince
You of your folly: for if even a Prince,
Of my creation, that on Earth doth dwell,
And must make use of Council, can so well
Conceal his Secrets, as what he intends,
Is neither knowen to Enemies, nor Friends:
How think you then.—
That I, who use no Council in the least,
But that which doth reside within my breast,
Should of my Secrets take so little care,
As any thing in Heavens, Earth, Sea, or Air,
Nay even my Angels, who my Court attend
Should e're discover what I do intend,
But from my Mouth? yet from a silly Star,
With which you correspond, of Peace, and War
Intended Famine, Fire, or Pestilence,
You Mortals have all your intelligence:
Would not you of that States-man make a sport,
Who from the Lacqueys of a Princes Court,
Pretended he did draw intelligence,
Of all his Cabin-councils, and from thence
Would take his measures? pray what else are those,
339
That I make any other use of these,
But as of Grooms, to carry Messages?
Nor is it lawful for you to erect
Your Figures, on Nativities; and make
From thence Conclusions: or by Art to frame,
From the conjunctions of the Stars, a Scheme
O'th' life, and death of any private man,
That lives on Earth: a thing no mortal can,
With safety undertake: or if he do,
Know all of you that I do not allow
Such Practices: for hidden things are knowen
To me who am your Soveraign alone
But things reveal'd to you are only showen.
Your Figures, on Nativities; and make
From thence Conclusions: or by Art to frame,
From the conjunctions of the Stars, a Scheme
O'th' life, and death of any private man,
That lives on Earth: a thing no mortal can,
With safety undertake: or if he do,
Know all of you that I do not allow
Such Practices: for hidden things are knowen
To me who am your Soveraign alone
But things reveal'd to you are only showen.
The Knowledge then, in which I do permit
The wisest of you all to try your Wit,
Is to distinguish, as these Stars appear,
The several times, and seasons of the Year;
To know them all both fix'd, and wanderers,
And gaze upon them as Astronomers:
To know besides their influences so,
As when 'tis time to plant, and when to sow:
When to set sail, when to return again:
When to endure, when to cast off your pain:
How in the darkest night your course to steer,
At Sea or Land: when to hope, when to fear:
When to rejoyce, when sadly to lament,
Especially when flaming Stars are sent
As Heralds of my Wrath, when to repent.
All this I do allow, and you may pore
Upon this Knowledge, so far, but no more:
For none of all these Stars can in the least
Have influence on either man, or beast
As Causes; but they only do appear
As signs to show my actions every where.
The wisest of you all to try your Wit,
Is to distinguish, as these Stars appear,
The several times, and seasons of the Year;
To know them all both fix'd, and wanderers,
And gaze upon them as Astronomers:
To know besides their influences so,
As when 'tis time to plant, and when to sow:
When to set sail, when to return again:
When to endure, when to cast off your pain:
How in the darkest night your course to steer,
At Sea or Land: when to hope, when to fear:
When to rejoyce, when sadly to lament,
Especially when flaming Stars are sent
As Heralds of my Wrath, when to repent.
All this I do allow, and you may pore
Upon this Knowledge, so far, but no more:
For none of all these Stars can in the least
Have influence on either man, or beast
As Causes; but they only do appear
As signs to show my actions every where.
Can'st thou by keeping coyl, and noise below,
Perswade the Clouds to let their Vapours go
And water all thy Sun-burn'd Grounds with Rain,
When they at any time of Drought complain?
Perswade the Clouds to let their Vapours go
And water all thy Sun-burn'd Grounds with Rain,
When they at any time of Drought complain?
Can'st thou by single lifting of thy hand,
Make all the Troops of Lightning understand
Thy pleasure, and appear, at thy command.
All ready arm'd, in order instantly,
And hotly forward in thy service cry,
Lord we are here;—let's have thy orders now,
Pray what wouldst have thy Souldiers to do?
Give us the Word, and Sign, let's understand
Upon what Service thou would'st us command:
For here we're ready, as one man, to act,
Whatever thou would'st have us undertake.
Make all the Troops of Lightning understand
Thy pleasure, and appear, at thy command.
All ready arm'd, in order instantly,
And hotly forward in thy service cry,
Lord we are here;—let's have thy orders now,
Pray what wouldst have thy Souldiers to do?
Give us the Word, and Sign, let's understand
Upon what Service thou would'st us command:
For here we're ready, as one man, to act,
Whatever thou would'st have us undertake.
But all these things, and many moe, then thou
Or any man can fancy, I can do.
I can with ease oblige the whole Creation
T'obey my Orders, as I find occasion
I can make th'Universe, at my command
Return to its first Chaos, Sea, and Land
I can confound, and mix them so together,
As th'wit of man cannot distinguish either:
I can do more then all you can conceive:
I can do what you but with pain believe.
Nay so much too thou know'st, for frequently
I've heard thee in thy sharpest agony,
Express thy self, with zeal, and admiration,
Upon the copious Theme of the Creation.
I've heard thee too, with no small Eloquence,
Discourse upon my works of Providence.
I ask thee then who made thee understand,
Who made thee know, that by my mighty hand
All things in Heaven, and Earth were fashioned,
And to this hour are dayly ordered?
Who taught thee these things? who instructed thee,
Hadst thou this Wit from any else, but me?
Did not I lend thee Parts, and made thee know
How from my Power all things created flow?
How all your Wisdom, of which you do boast,
Is not your acquisition, but at most
A simple loan of my benevolence;
Which I to this, or that man do dispense
As I think good.—
By rules then of your own Philosophy,
If from me Wisdom flows, then certainly
I who, bestow it must be wiser far,
Then the accutest of you Mortals are,
Who all your Knowledge do derive from me,
Since that for which a thing is such, must be
More such it self: I do demand thee then
Thou most pretending to it, of all men,
Is't fit that any Mortal should be proud,
Of what in Loan I only have allow'd
To him, upon design that he should know
What he's himself, and then what he doth owe
To me, who made him such; but not to state
Himself my Party; or, like thee, debate
On my Proceedings, but that he should be
Content to know, that he knows all from me.
Or any man can fancy, I can do.
I can with ease oblige the whole Creation
T'obey my Orders, as I find occasion
340
Return to its first Chaos, Sea, and Land
I can confound, and mix them so together,
As th'wit of man cannot distinguish either:
I can do more then all you can conceive:
I can do what you but with pain believe.
Nay so much too thou know'st, for frequently
I've heard thee in thy sharpest agony,
Express thy self, with zeal, and admiration,
Upon the copious Theme of the Creation.
I've heard thee too, with no small Eloquence,
Discourse upon my works of Providence.
I ask thee then who made thee understand,
Who made thee know, that by my mighty hand
All things in Heaven, and Earth were fashioned,
And to this hour are dayly ordered?
Who taught thee these things? who instructed thee,
Hadst thou this Wit from any else, but me?
Did not I lend thee Parts, and made thee know
How from my Power all things created flow?
How all your Wisdom, of which you do boast,
Is not your acquisition, but at most
A simple loan of my benevolence;
Which I to this, or that man do dispense
As I think good.—
By rules then of your own Philosophy,
If from me Wisdom flows, then certainly
I who, bestow it must be wiser far,
Then the accutest of you Mortals are,
Who all your Knowledge do derive from me,
Since that for which a thing is such, must be
More such it self: I do demand thee then
Thou most pretending to it, of all men,
Is't fit that any Mortal should be proud,
Of what in Loan I only have allow'd
To him, upon design that he should know
What he's himself, and then what he doth owe
To me, who made him such; but not to state
Himself my Party; or, like thee, debate
On my Proceedings, but that he should be
Content to know, that he knows all from me.
For what is all your Wit? what all your Parts?
What all the subtile Sciences, and Arts,
Which you do study, and profess to know,
Nay, what is all that Wisdom here below
On which you men value your selves so much?
What is it? how d'ye rate it? is it such,
As by it you can even but calculate
The number of the Clouds? or estimate
The value of those Magazines of Rain
What quantity of Vapours they contain?
Under what Lock, and Key they're all secur'd?
How guarded, by what Policy ensur'd,
At all Adventures from the craft, and force
Of th'other fiery rambling meteors?
Can all your wit, at any time restrain,
The falling of the smallest drop of rain,
Out of those heavenly bottles, which you see,
That both are fill'd, and emptied by me.
What all the subtile Sciences, and Arts,
Which you do study, and profess to know,
Nay, what is all that Wisdom here below
On which you men value your selves so much?
What is it? how d'ye rate it? is it such,
As by it you can even but calculate
The number of the Clouds? or estimate
The value of those Magazines of Rain
What quantity of Vapours they contain?
Under what Lock, and Key they're all secur'd?
How guarded, by what Policy ensur'd,
At all Adventures from the craft, and force
341
Can all your wit, at any time restrain,
The falling of the smallest drop of rain,
Out of those heavenly bottles, which you see,
That both are fill'd, and emptied by me.
For when by drouth the Earth to flying dust
Appears converted, then I let out just
As I think fit, such quantities of rain,
As may reduce it to soft clay again.
Appears converted, then I let out just
As I think fit, such quantities of rain,
As may reduce it to soft clay again.
Thus much for Heavens; now let's to Earth repair,
And see what absolute power I have there,
For thou wilt say the Meteors o'th' Air
Are far above thee; and it is no wonder,
Though rain, and snow, hail, lightning, frost, and thunder,
Be things unknown to thee: I'll lead thee then
To objects that more obvious to men
In the same Earth, with you converse, which though
Thou see, and hear them daily, yet I'll show
For all thy wit, and art thou dost not know
The nature of them, I will show thee then,
That there are many things unknown to men,
Even in this Earth. Do then but cast thy eyes
Upon my Parks, my Ponds, and Volaries,
Thou'lt quickly see, that I have creatures there,
Which thou know'st hardly either what they are,
Or how they live.—
And see what absolute power I have there,
For thou wilt say the Meteors o'th' Air
Are far above thee; and it is no wonder,
Though rain, and snow, hail, lightning, frost, and thunder,
Be things unknown to thee: I'll lead thee then
To objects that more obvious to men
In the same Earth, with you converse, which though
Thou see, and hear them daily, yet I'll show
For all thy wit, and art thou dost not know
The nature of them, I will show thee then,
That there are many things unknown to men,
Even in this Earth. Do then but cast thy eyes
Upon my Parks, my Ponds, and Volaries,
Thou'lt quickly see, that I have creatures there,
Which thou know'st hardly either what they are,
Or how they live.—
First then, you have the Lyon such a creature,
As best of you do hardly know his nature:
A creature full of fury, full of wrath,
That to all other creatures threatens death,
If once withstood: but when to him they yeeld,
There's no more generous beast in all the field:
For his opposers he in pieces tears,
But such as do submit to him he spares.
Observe this Lyon then; he must be fed,
As well as thou, he must be nourished:
Who therefore taught him, pray' to find his prey,
And how to feed his young ones every day?
Knows then what shifts he uses for his food,
And makes provision for his tender brood?
In the wild Forrest, where there is no trade,
Where, for a price no meat is to be had?
As best of you do hardly know his nature:
A creature full of fury, full of wrath,
That to all other creatures threatens death,
If once withstood: but when to him they yeeld,
There's no more generous beast in all the field:
For his opposers he in pieces tears,
But such as do submit to him he spares.
Observe this Lyon then; he must be fed,
As well as thou, he must be nourished:
Who therefore taught him, pray' to find his prey,
And how to feed his young ones every day?
Knows then what shifts he uses for his food,
And makes provision for his tender brood?
In the wild Forrest, where there is no trade,
Where, for a price no meat is to be had?
Dost know how in their Dens they couchant ly
To catch th'unthinking beasts that passing by,
Do not their cunning ambuscade espy?
To catch th'unthinking beasts that passing by,
Do not their cunning ambuscade espy?
Next there's the Raven, such a creature too,
As lives by prey, as well as Lyons do:
Who doth provide its food? who entertains
This idle creature? who is at the pains
To feed its young ones, when the naughty dame,
Unkindly in the Nest abandons them?
When the raw-chicks do squeek, and crock aloud,
Half-starv'd for want of meat, who gives them food?
Who doth with Worms those shiftless creatures feed,
Which 'bout the nest, in Ravens dung do breed?
Dost understand who is it that supplyes
Those small forsaken things with Dew, and Flyes?
Or when as yet pin-feather'd they are thrust
By th'cruel Dame out of the Nest, and must
Make shifts (although not able yet to fly)
For their subsistence in the world, or dy,
Who hears them pray, when they for hunger cry,
And doth them, with an Aliment supply?
So that for all these hardships, they do grow
To a great age, and ramble to and fro,
Catching their preys, and live as well as these,
Who, from their birth, enjoy'd both food and ease.
As lives by prey, as well as Lyons do:
Who doth provide its food? who entertains
This idle creature? who is at the pains
To feed its young ones, when the naughty dame,
Unkindly in the Nest abandons them?
When the raw-chicks do squeek, and crock aloud,
Half-starv'd for want of meat, who gives them food?
342
Which 'bout the nest, in Ravens dung do breed?
Dost understand who is it that supplyes
Those small forsaken things with Dew, and Flyes?
Or when as yet pin-feather'd they are thrust
By th'cruel Dame out of the Nest, and must
Make shifts (although not able yet to fly)
For their subsistence in the world, or dy,
Who hears them pray, when they for hunger cry,
And doth them, with an Aliment supply?
So that for all these hardships, they do grow
To a great age, and ramble to and fro,
Catching their preys, and live as well as these,
Who, from their birth, enjoy'd both food and ease.
Cap. XXXIX.
1. Knowest thou the time when the wild goats of the rock bring forth? or canst thou mark when the hindes do calve?
That doth preserve the several species
Of all those Creatures? by what hidden means
Are they assisted, when they take their pains?
Dost know what art those artless Brutes do use
At such occasions? how they do produce
Their young ones? who's their Mid-wife? who takes care
Of them, in that estate? who doth prepare
All that is suitable? who makes provision
Of necessars for them, in that condition?
Who layes them up? who cures them of their sores?
Who is't, that them to perfect health restores?
As first, for instance, the wild Goat, who rambles
Amongst the Rocks, and on sharp Briars and Brambles
Doth often thrust her Belly, and her Brood,
Whilst in the Cliffs she searches for her food:
So that a man would think this same unwary,
And climbing Creature, surely would miscarry:
Who doth take care of her? when doth she bring
Her young ones forth, dost know her reckoning?
Or know'st thou when the Hinds do calve? what pain
These Creatures in their labour do sustain?
Canst tell how long those Beasts do pregnant go?
Or dost the time of their delivery know?
Or dost the time of their delivery know?
The time of their delivery indeed,
Of all the Creatures that on earth do feed,
Both rational, and brutal, there is none
Endures such torment, as these Hinds alone
Do in the birth:—
They bow their bodies over, and again,
In labour to alleviate their pain:
Nay, these weak Creatures too, to make them able
T'endure their pains, of a mean Vegetable
Make use, and by that natural Midwifery,
As well as those, who use much industry,
And help of knowing Surgeons to boot,
With horrid toil, they cast their sorrows out.
Of all the Creatures that on earth do feed,
Both rational, and brutal, there is none
Endures such torment, as these Hinds alone
Do in the birth:—
They bow their bodies over, and again,
In labour to alleviate their pain:
Nay, these weak Creatures too, to make them able
T'endure their pains, of a mean Vegetable
343
As well as those, who use much industry,
And help of knowing Surgeons to boot,
With horrid toil, they cast their sorrows out.
Yet the same young ones, though with so much pain
Brought to the world, do not long remain
With their kind Dames, but taught by nature, do
Run out, and make a shift for Victuals too,
For quickly they grow fat, and fed with store
Of Corn, and Grass, they see their Dames no more.
Brought to the world, do not long remain
With their kind Dames, but taught by nature, do
Run out, and make a shift for Victuals too,
For quickly they grow fat, and fed with store
Of Corn, and Grass, they see their Dames no more.
Then there's the wild Ass, an undocile creature,
So different from the tame Ass, that by nature,
It loves as much its rambling liberty,
As th'other stoops to servile drudgery.
Who taught this stupid Creature so to prize
Its liberty, and proudly to despise
Alluring mankind, who would fain entise
This thing to serve them, but 'tis all in vain,
For not by Dogs, nor Nets it will be tane.
So different from the tame Ass, that by nature,
It loves as much its rambling liberty,
As th'other stoops to servile drudgery.
Who taught this stupid Creature so to prize
Its liberty, and proudly to despise
Alluring mankind, who would fain entise
This thing to serve them, but 'tis all in vain,
For not by Dogs, nor Nets it will be tane.
But to evite the tyranny of man,
It strives as much as any creature can,
Against both hunger, parching heat, and snow,
And in the Wilderness will undergo
A thousand pinches, rather as be tam'd,
And a poor slave t' its fellow-mortals nam'd.
It strives as much as any creature can,
Against both hunger, parching heat, and snow,
And in the Wilderness will undergo
A thousand pinches, rather as be tam'd,
And a poor slave t' its fellow-mortals nam'd.
He laughs at all your Citizens, who dwell
In plenty at their ease, and faring well,
Laugh at all those in wants, he will not sell
His liberty for all those toyes, nor be
Subject to th'lashing of the Whip, not he,
For all the sure allowance he might have
Of food, were he, like other beasts, your slave.
In plenty at their ease, and faring well,
Laugh at all those in wants, he will not sell
His liberty for all those toyes, nor be
Subject to th'lashing of the Whip, not he,
For all the sure allowance he might have
Of food, were he, like other beasts, your slave.
But rather is content in Wilderness
To make a shift, and feed on acid grass,
Salt herbs, or any thing, that may sustain
Its life, then under bonds with man remain.
To make a shift, and feed on acid grass,
Salt herbs, or any thing, that may sustain
Its life, then under bonds with man remain.
Then there's the Unicorn (or if you will,
The wild Bull) pray hast thou attain'd such skill,
As but to catch it? and far less to tame
A creature of that strength, or but to dream,
Of bringing of that beast at any rate,
To serve thy use, who doth all bondage hate?
Or being catch'd, canst thou by feeding bribe
This wanton beast to tarry by thy Crib?
The wild Bull) pray hast thou attain'd such skill,
As but to catch it? and far less to tame
A creature of that strength, or but to dream,
Of bringing of that beast at any rate,
To serve thy use, who doth all bondage hate?
Or being catch'd, canst thou by feeding bribe
This wanton beast to tarry by thy Crib?
Canst this fierce Creature to thy labouring break,
And calmly lay the Yoke upon his neck?
Canst make him softly foot it 'fore the Plow,
And keep the furrows, as the Oxen do?
Or will he draw the Harrows orderly
After thee, when thou sowest? or decently
Turn at the furrows end, and follow thee
With the same pace, as men do daily see
The beasts of labour are accustomed,
And when unyok'd, with th'others tamely feed?
And calmly lay the Yoke upon his neck?
Canst make him softly foot it 'fore the Plow,
And keep the furrows, as the Oxen do?
Or will he draw the Harrows orderly
After thee, when thou sowest? or decently
Turn at the furrows end, and follow thee
With the same pace, as men do daily see
The beasts of labour are accustomed,
And when unyok'd, with th'others tamely feed?
344
Wilt thou be such a fool, because he's strong,
And able to endure much fatigue long,
As trust thy labouring to him? dost expect,
That he the yoke will suffer for thy sake?
And able to endure much fatigue long,
As trust thy labouring to him? dost expect,
That he the yoke will suffer for thy sake?
Wilt thou be so unmann'd, as in the least,
Be made believe that wild unruly beast,
Will in the Harvest yok'd in Cart, or wain,
From Field, to Barn-yard, carry home thy Grain
For if thou dost, who would not justly thee
Suspect to be a greater beast then he.
Yet all these beasts (though ne're so feirce, and wild,)
I can by single word make tame, and mild;
I can, with ease, make all such creatures bow,
And yok'd, or unyok'd, with submission too,
Serve me, what ere I have a mind to doe.
For thou must not think that I do in vain,
Those savage creatures in the fields maintain,
But that I have an use for each of them,
As well as men for creatures that are tame.
Be made believe that wild unruly beast,
Will in the Harvest yok'd in Cart, or wain,
From Field, to Barn-yard, carry home thy Grain
For if thou dost, who would not justly thee
Suspect to be a greater beast then he.
Yet all these beasts (though ne're so feirce, and wild,)
I can by single word make tame, and mild;
I can, with ease, make all such creatures bow,
And yok'd, or unyok'd, with submission too,
Serve me, what ere I have a mind to doe.
For thou must not think that I do in vain,
Those savage creatures in the fields maintain,
But that I have an use for each of them,
As well as men for creatures that are tame.
And now to show thee how much those do err,
In understanding who with me compare:
Or think they can by any Science reach,
The knowledge of what none but I can teach:
I'll question thee on things familiar,
Of home bred creatures, such as dayly are
About thy doors: and thence I'll plainly show,
Thou dost not even those creatures fully know.
As first who on the Peacock hath bestow'd,
Such a fair train? Who is it that allow'd
Such outward beauty to that screeching creature:
Who made his neck rise in such comely feature,
Adorn'd with such a changing set of Plums,
As proud of his apparrel, he presumes
To think himself a creature most compleat,
Were't not that sometimes he doth view, his feet,
Which black, and loathsome, and so differing
From his whole body, makes the lofty thing
Despise it self, and seems to let him know,
That there is nothing that's compleat below.
Or dost thou know from whence the Estrich had
These curious feathers in her wings, which made,
And sow'd in plums, adorn the proudest crest,
That dares appear, of either man, or beast.
And teach you too, that man for all his pride,
(In which he undervalues all beside.
That live on Earth) to make himself appear
More beautiful then other creatures are,
Is forc'd to borrow Plums out of the wing
Of a poor naughty Bird, and fairly bring
His fairest head-attire from such a creature.
As is the most insipid thing in nature.
In understanding who with me compare:
Or think they can by any Science reach,
The knowledge of what none but I can teach:
I'll question thee on things familiar,
Of home bred creatures, such as dayly are
About thy doors: and thence I'll plainly show,
Thou dost not even those creatures fully know.
As first who on the Peacock hath bestow'd,
Such a fair train? Who is it that allow'd
Such outward beauty to that screeching creature:
Who made his neck rise in such comely feature,
Adorn'd with such a changing set of Plums,
As proud of his apparrel, he presumes
To think himself a creature most compleat,
Were't not that sometimes he doth view, his feet,
Which black, and loathsome, and so differing
From his whole body, makes the lofty thing
Despise it self, and seems to let him know,
That there is nothing that's compleat below.
Or dost thou know from whence the Estrich had
These curious feathers in her wings, which made,
And sow'd in plums, adorn the proudest crest,
That dares appear, of either man, or beast.
And teach you too, that man for all his pride,
(In which he undervalues all beside.
That live on Earth) to make himself appear
More beautiful then other creatures are,
Is forc'd to borrow Plums out of the wing
Of a poor naughty Bird, and fairly bring
His fairest head-attire from such a creature.
As is the most insipid thing in nature.
A stupid creature, one that's memorable
For nothing, but its bulk: and hardly able
To rank it self for its sagacity,
Amongst the meanest of the birds that fly
A blockish creature, of so dull a sense,
As were't not meerly for my Providence,
Its species would be lost: for when sh'has laid
Her Eggs, and with light sand them overspread,
She simply thinks her businesse is done,
And without more ado, away she's gone,
Whilst to the wide world she her brood doth trust,
And carelessly doth leave them in the dust.
For nothing, but its bulk: and hardly able
To rank it self for its sagacity,
345
A blockish creature, of so dull a sense,
As were't not meerly for my Providence,
Its species would be lost: for when sh'has laid
Her Eggs, and with light sand them overspread,
She simply thinks her businesse is done,
And without more ado, away she's gone,
Whilst to the wide world she her brood doth trust,
And carelessly doth leave them in the dust.
Forgetting how these things obnoxious ly
To th'foot of every one that passeth by
The place, where she hath left them, nay at least,
(Though men may have discretion) yet the beast
O'th' Forrest, who doth not observe its paces,
With its hard hoof, might crush them all to pieces.
To th'foot of every one that passeth by
The place, where she hath left them, nay at least,
(Though men may have discretion) yet the beast
O'th' Forrest, who doth not observe its paces,
With its hard hoof, might crush them all to pieces.
Thus to her own brood she's unnatural,
And seems to have no thought for them at all,
But quite forsakes those poor adventurers,
And looks upon them, as they were not hers:
So that her labours, and her pains appear
T'have been in vain, when thus, without all fear
Of what may be the event, foolishly
She leaves her issue, and most barbarously,
Not only leaves them, but forgets them too,
A thing no creature, but her self would do.
And seems to have no thought for them at all,
But quite forsakes those poor adventurers,
And looks upon them, as they were not hers:
So that her labours, and her pains appear
T'have been in vain, when thus, without all fear
Of what may be the event, foolishly
She leaves her issue, and most barbarously,
Not only leaves them, but forgets them too,
A thing no creature, but her self would do.
And what's the reason, why this stolid creature
Acts contrare to the very rules of nature?
Why thus it is: because I thought not fit
At first t'allow her so much mother-wit,
As even to take a care of what's her own,
And as for understanding, she has none.
But what she wants of wit, and common sense,
I do supply it by my Providence:
For of those Eggs by her abandoned,
I do take care, and have so ordered,
That on the open sand where these do ly,
The Sun should th'unkind mothers place supply:
And by the heat of his warm, transient rays
Should hatch those Eggs, and save her species;
Which else by her extream, supine neglect.
Would totally decay, and go to wrack.
Acts contrare to the very rules of nature?
Why thus it is: because I thought not fit
At first t'allow her so much mother-wit,
As even to take a care of what's her own,
And as for understanding, she has none.
But what she wants of wit, and common sense,
I do supply it by my Providence:
For of those Eggs by her abandoned,
I do take care, and have so ordered,
That on the open sand where these do ly,
The Sun should th'unkind mothers place supply:
And by the heat of his warm, transient rays
Should hatch those Eggs, and save her species;
Which else by her extream, supine neglect.
Would totally decay, and go to wrack.
And yet as dull, and stolid as she is,
She may be thought sagacious in this,
That when pursu'd by th'Hunter, she on high
Doth lift her self, and though she cannot fly,
By reason of her heavy bulk, so well
As other birds, yet she appears to sail,
And fly, and run together, for with feet
And wings, she nimbly makes her way so fleet,
As none can overtake her, nay she knows
How to defend her self, when Hunters close
Approach her with their Poles, for then she throws
Behind her with her feet, to stop the chase,
Small stones, sand, dust, and gravel in the face,
Of those who do pursue her, and defyes
All their attaques, whilst thus she runs and flyes
To save her life, with so much art, and force,
As she despises both their Foot, and Horse.
She may be thought sagacious in this,
That when pursu'd by th'Hunter, she on high
Doth lift her self, and though she cannot fly,
By reason of her heavy bulk, so well
As other birds, yet she appears to sail,
And fly, and run together, for with feet
And wings, she nimbly makes her way so fleet,
As none can overtake her, nay she knows
How to defend her self, when Hunters close
Approach her with their Poles, for then she throws
Behind her with her feet, to stop the chase,
Small stones, sand, dust, and gravel in the face,
346
All their attaques, whilst thus she runs and flyes
To save her life, with so much art, and force,
As she despises both their Foot, and Horse.
The Horse, why there's a creature, that indeed
In wit, strength, courage, doth as much exceed
The most of Beasts, which on the earth do breed,
As th'Estrich doth in dulness: there's a creature
For th'use of man accommodate by nature,
A lofty thing, that on its Joynts doth rise,
Stands straight, lifts up his Crest, with flaming eyes:
Appears a creature full of generous pride,
With other so fair qualities beside.
As to serve mankind he is no less able,
Then to his fellow-brutes he's formidable.
Who gave him this same strength, who made him shake
His dangling Maine, and Perwig, his neck
With horrid curles, and friezlings, when in wrath
He seems to threaten nothing less then death?
Who gave him so much courage, that he fears
Nothing that moving on the earth appears?
But with such resolution in he flies
Amongst the thickest of his enemies,
As unconcern'd, as Thunder-bolt, which breaks
Even where it pleases, so he havock makes
Of all that do oppose him, for he soon.
By valour bears the proudest of'em down.
In wit, strength, courage, doth as much exceed
The most of Beasts, which on the earth do breed,
As th'Estrich doth in dulness: there's a creature
For th'use of man accommodate by nature,
A lofty thing, that on its Joynts doth rise,
Stands straight, lifts up his Crest, with flaming eyes:
Appears a creature full of generous pride,
With other so fair qualities beside.
As to serve mankind he is no less able,
Then to his fellow-brutes he's formidable.
Who gave him this same strength, who made him shake
His dangling Maine, and Perwig, his neck
With horrid curles, and friezlings, when in wrath
He seems to threaten nothing less then death?
Who gave him so much courage, that he fears
Nothing that moving on the earth appears?
But with such resolution in he flies
Amongst the thickest of his enemies,
As unconcern'd, as Thunder-bolt, which breaks
Even where it pleases, so he havock makes
Of all that do oppose him, for he soon.
By valour bears the proudest of'em down.
Canst thou then make this noble beast afraid,
And like a timorous Ass, hang down his head?
Canst stop his nostrils, when he fiercely neighs,
And with his voice doth seem to pierce the skyes?
And like a timorous Ass, hang down his head?
Canst stop his nostrils, when he fiercely neighs,
And with his voice doth seem to pierce the skyes?
His martial neighing makes the Hills resound,
When with his angry hoof, he tears the ground,
Erects his Crest, and chops upon his Bit,
VVith gnashing teeth, 'cause it will not permit
His fury to run out as he thinks fit.
His Bit, like Soap-ball, rouling in his mouth,
Makes him spit out much of his wrath in froath,
Whilst with a longing not to be exprest
By mortal man, this strong, couragious beast,
This most magnanimous, and fearless thing,
Longs to be at his sprightly skirmishing:
For joy he praunces, and courvetts, when he
Doth preparations for the Battel see:
When there are sudden hopes of death, and wounds,
And nothing in his ears, but terrour sounds.
When all the fields are covered far and nigh,
With thick Battallions of stout Infantry
And closs-rank'd-Squadrons of brave Cavalry:
O how he's tickled with that deathful sight,
As if in nothing more he took delight,
(For things, which you do black, and dreadful call,
He fancies the most pleasant things of all,
That life affords) he would not quit the sport
He there expects to have, in any sort,
For all the whissling pleasures of a Court.
No man for loves fruition has such charms,
As he to meet th'enraged man at arms.
When with his angry hoof, he tears the ground,
Erects his Crest, and chops upon his Bit,
VVith gnashing teeth, 'cause it will not permit
His fury to run out as he thinks fit.
His Bit, like Soap-ball, rouling in his mouth,
Makes him spit out much of his wrath in froath,
Whilst with a longing not to be exprest
By mortal man, this strong, couragious beast,
This most magnanimous, and fearless thing,
Longs to be at his sprightly skirmishing:
For joy he praunces, and courvetts, when he
Doth preparations for the Battel see:
When there are sudden hopes of death, and wounds,
And nothing in his ears, but terrour sounds.
When all the fields are covered far and nigh,
With thick Battallions of stout Infantry
And closs-rank'd-Squadrons of brave Cavalry:
O how he's tickled with that deathful sight,
As if in nothing more he took delight,
(For things, which you do black, and dreadful call,
He fancies the most pleasant things of all,
347
He there expects to have, in any sort,
For all the whissling pleasures of a Court.
No man for loves fruition has such charms,
As he to meet th'enraged man at arms.
Yes, all the charms, which do his breast possess,
He by his frequent neighings doth express,
And still expecting with impatience
When his beloved Battel should commence.
He chaffs and foams at mouth so furiously,
As even his Rider, with difficulty,
For all his strength, and skill, by force of Rein,
Can this now half-engaged Beast restrain.
When he perceives the glistering Sword appear,
And over Helmet brandish'd every where,
Make no small threatning Figure in the Air:
For to afright him, no device is able,
The Sword is to him but a very bauble.
He by his frequent neighings doth express,
And still expecting with impatience
When his beloved Battel should commence.
He chaffs and foams at mouth so furiously,
As even his Rider, with difficulty,
For all his strength, and skill, by force of Rein,
Can this now half-engaged Beast restrain.
When he perceives the glistering Sword appear,
And over Helmet brandish'd every where,
Make no small threatning Figure in the Air:
For to afright him, no device is able,
The Sword is to him but a very bauble.
The rattling Quiver stuck, with Arrows full,
The Spear, and Shield to him appear but dull,
And empty Symbols of approaching War;
For he fears nothing that a man can dare.
The Spear, and Shield to him appear but dull,
And empty Symbols of approaching War;
For he fears nothing that a man can dare.
But when he sees the Forces on each side
Draw up in order, and both far and wide
Extend their Front:—
O how he huggs himself, because he now
Expects some action without more adoe:
O how he paws, and with his foot doth wound,
In his hote rage, the unprovocking ground;
As if the harmless Turff, on which he stood,
Withstood his fury: how he neighs aloud,
And stretching out his head, once, and again,
In passion almost breaks the curbing Rein.
At sound of Trumpet, he's no more afraid,
Nor at the thundering noise of Drums dismaid,
Then if one whistled through a Flagelet,
Or on the bottom of a Barrel beat.
Draw up in order, and both far and wide
Extend their Front:—
O how he huggs himself, because he now
Expects some action without more adoe:
O how he paws, and with his foot doth wound,
In his hote rage, the unprovocking ground;
As if the harmless Turff, on which he stood,
Withstood his fury: how he neighs aloud,
And stretching out his head, once, and again,
In passion almost breaks the curbing Rein.
At sound of Trumpet, he's no more afraid,
Nor at the thundering noise of Drums dismaid,
Then if one whistled through a Flagelet,
Or on the bottom of a Barrel beat.
For this undaunted Beast doth so rejoyce
In the redoubling of that horrid noise,
Which Drums, and Trumpets do afford, and takes
Such pleasure in the noise the Army makes:
Whilst Officers on Horse-back, here and there
Traversing through the Ranks and Files, prepare
All things for action, and aloud command
What they think fit, with Truncheons in their hand:
That with his neighing he doth answer make,
And Ecchoes all the Language which they speak,
With such wild noise, as doth the Air confound;
But when the Trumpet doth in earnest sound
The signal to the fight—Sa—sa—he cryes,
Bears down his head, shoots lightning from his eyes,
And with top-gallop to the Battel dyes.
Have you not seen a Faulcon in his flight,
Chasing his prey, as in a Line, down-right,
When far above it in the open Sky,
With so great strength, and force upon it fly,
As to the ground it bears it by, and by.
So this brave beast, so soon as Trumpet sounds,
Contemning noise, and clamour, dangers, wounds,
Nay death it self, upon its enemies,
And on its prey, with mighty valour flys.
In the redoubling of that horrid noise,
Which Drums, and Trumpets do afford, and takes
Such pleasure in the noise the Army makes:
Whilst Officers on Horse-back, here and there
Traversing through the Ranks and Files, prepare
All things for action, and aloud command
What they think fit, with Truncheons in their hand:
That with his neighing he doth answer make,
And Ecchoes all the Language which they speak,
With such wild noise, as doth the Air confound;
But when the Trumpet doth in earnest sound
The signal to the fight—Sa—sa—he cryes,
Bears down his head, shoots lightning from his eyes,
And with top-gallop to the Battel dyes.
Have you not seen a Faulcon in his flight,
Chasing his prey, as in a Line, down-right,
348
With so great strength, and force upon it fly,
As to the ground it bears it by, and by.
So this brave beast, so soon as Trumpet sounds,
Contemning noise, and clamour, dangers, wounds,
Nay death it self, upon its enemies,
And on its prey, with mighty valour flys.
And now we speak of Hawks: why there is too,
A noble bird, which I have made to bow
For humane use, a roaving bird of prey,
Which in the air so swiftly cuts a way,
With stretch'd, slow-moving wings, as to the eye,
He seems like arrow from a bow to fly,
Who taught herso to fly then? pray was't thou
Her tutor? didst thou teach her? though 'tis true,
By art the meanest of you do attain
The knowledge how to tame, and how to train
This ravenous bird, and bring her to your lure,
And make her for your use her prey secure.
But what's all that? by nature she knows more,
Then you can teach her, and did know before
You catch'd her, how to catch her prey, and fly,
As well as you by all your industry
Can e're instruct her in the thing; although
You think you more then such poor creatures know,
Well then I'll ask thee:
When the wild Hawk doth her old feathers cast,
And fears en cuerpo, the cold northern blast
May do her harm: is't thou who did advise
That naked creature to become so wise,
As to avoid the winters cold, in time,
To make a progresse to a warmer clime,
Untill her feathers do grow up again?
Dost think she's taught so by the art of men?
A noble bird, which I have made to bow
For humane use, a roaving bird of prey,
Which in the air so swiftly cuts a way,
With stretch'd, slow-moving wings, as to the eye,
He seems like arrow from a bow to fly,
Who taught herso to fly then? pray was't thou
Her tutor? didst thou teach her? though 'tis true,
By art the meanest of you do attain
The knowledge how to tame, and how to train
This ravenous bird, and bring her to your lure,
And make her for your use her prey secure.
But what's all that? by nature she knows more,
Then you can teach her, and did know before
You catch'd her, how to catch her prey, and fly,
As well as you by all your industry
Can e're instruct her in the thing; although
You think you more then such poor creatures know,
Well then I'll ask thee:
When the wild Hawk doth her old feathers cast,
And fears en cuerpo, the cold northern blast
May do her harm: is't thou who did advise
That naked creature to become so wise,
As to avoid the winters cold, in time,
To make a progresse to a warmer clime,
Untill her feathers do grow up again?
Dost think she's taught so by the art of men?
Or doth the princely Eagle soar on high,
And to the tops of Rocks, and Mountains fly
At thy command? where she doth build her Nest,
And with her young ones doth securely rest?
And to the tops of Rocks, and Mountains fly
At thy command? where she doth build her Nest,
And with her young ones doth securely rest?
For safety she with pleasure doth dispense,
And 'mongst the Rocks she keeps her residence:
Whilst other birds do lodge in trees, and bushes,
In banks of rivers, marishes, bull-rushes,
Heaths, and corn-fields, house-tops, and some such places,
This bird inhabits, where no humane traces
Are to be found, and as the soveraign
Of all the winged nation, doth remain
In her strong castle, where secure she lyes,
Under the covert of a precipice.
And 'mongst the Rocks she keeps her residence:
Whilst other birds do lodge in trees, and bushes,
In banks of rivers, marishes, bull-rushes,
Heaths, and corn-fields, house-tops, and some such places,
This bird inhabits, where no humane traces
Are to be found, and as the soveraign
Of all the winged nation, doth remain
In her strong castle, where secure she lyes,
Under the covert of a precipice.
There she resides, in that strong cittadel,
She like a Lady paramount, doth dwell;
From whence the countrey all around she spyes,
And views afar: her sharp, and vigorous eyes,
Make a large Horizon: from thence, with ease,
As from a watch-tower, she at a distance sees
Th'inferiour Birds, who unconcern'dly fly,
And so securely ramble through the Sky,
As if indeed they fear'd no Enemy.
Then from her Fortress she flys out amain,
Falls in amongst them, and with little pain
Snatches so many of 'em, as at least
Upon those slaughtered Captives, she may feast
Both she, and her voracious Family,
For a long Summers-day conveniently.
She like a Lady paramount, doth dwell;
From whence the countrey all around she spyes,
And views afar: her sharp, and vigorous eyes,
Make a large Horizon: from thence, with ease,
As from a watch-tower, she at a distance sees
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And so securely ramble through the Sky,
As if indeed they fear'd no Enemy.
Then from her Fortress she flys out amain,
Falls in amongst them, and with little pain
Snatches so many of 'em, as at least
Upon those slaughtered Captives, she may feast
Both she, and her voracious Family,
For a long Summers-day conveniently.
Her raw, and tender young ones for their food,
Are taught by her betimes to suck up blood:
For where the slain in clustered heapsido ly,
Thither the Eagle, with her brood doth fly.
Are taught by her betimes to suck up blood:
For where the slain in clustered heapsido ly,
Thither the Eagle, with her brood doth fly.
Cap. XL.
Thus the Almighty having fully showen
What was to the afflicted man unknowen;
(For all the wit, to which he laid pretence)
From what was said, he draws this inference.
What was to the afflicted man unknowen;
(For all the wit, to which he laid pretence)
From what was said, he draws this inference.
Then since, he says, I now do plainly see
These questions on the Creatures puzzle thee
To frame an answer to 'em: sure if I
Should ask what think'st of my Divinity,
And what a mighty one thou didst suppose
Thy God must be, who made both thee, and those
Of which I've question'd thee, thou'd far less know
What answer thou should'st make; why even so
When thou cry'st out thou art oppress'd with pain,
And of afflictions dost so oft complain:
Asking a reason why thou art thus vex't,
Why thus with woes, and miseries perplex't?
And gladly wouldst thy Case with me debate,
Thou dost not understand what thou dost prate.
For if thou dost not understand the Creature,
And cannot comprehend the works of Nature,
O how much less:—
Wilt understand the works of Providence,
Which both transcend thy Reason, and thy Sense?
These questions on the Creatures puzzle thee
To frame an answer to 'em: sure if I
Should ask what think'st of my Divinity,
And what a mighty one thou didst suppose
Thy God must be, who made both thee, and those
Of which I've question'd thee, thou'd far less know
What answer thou should'st make; why even so
When thou cry'st out thou art oppress'd with pain,
And of afflictions dost so oft complain:
Asking a reason why thou art thus vex't,
Why thus with woes, and miseries perplex't?
And gladly wouldst thy Case with me debate,
Thou dost not understand what thou dost prate.
For if thou dost not understand the Creature,
And cannot comprehend the works of Nature,
O how much less:—
Wilt understand the works of Providence,
Which both transcend thy Reason, and thy Sense?
Then be not curious any more to know
The reason why thou art afflicted so:
Because what state of life doth best agree,
And what is most convenient for thee
At any time, is only knowen to me.
Though you of Mortal Race imagine when
I let Afflictions out on pious men;
I seem to counteract what all of you
Firmly conclude to Piety is due:
So what I long since have premeditate;
And from Eternity predestinate,
For any of you, when it takes effect,
Because it is not such, as you expect,
Your ignorance makes you admire to see,
What knowingly is brought to pass by me.
Forbear hereafter then t'expostulate
Upon thy case, or offer to debate
With me, who gave thee life: know therefore thou,
Who seem'st to teach me what I ought to do,
That were it not I have some kindness yet
For thee, and will not totally forget
Thy former actions: I would let thee see
What it is truly to contend with me:
And show thee how, when with afflictions cross't
Others are humbled, thou appear'st to boast
Of thy great merits, and presumptuously
Dost think thou meet'st with incongruity,
In these my Dispensations: know then, know
I will not suffer thee to bluster so,
In thy mad humours, on my providence;
Or {confess} thus my actings, but from hence
I do command thee silence; speak not then
In thy late Gibbrish:—do no more complain
Of my proceedings—no—for if thou do it.
He that reproves his God, let him see to it.
The reason why thou art afflicted so:
Because what state of life doth best agree,
And what is most convenient for thee
At any time, is only knowen to me.
Though you of Mortal Race imagine when
I let Afflictions out on pious men;
I seem to counteract what all of you
Firmly conclude to Piety is due:
So what I long since have premeditate;
And from Eternity predestinate,
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Because it is not such, as you expect,
Your ignorance makes you admire to see,
What knowingly is brought to pass by me.
Forbear hereafter then t'expostulate
Upon thy case, or offer to debate
With me, who gave thee life: know therefore thou,
Who seem'st to teach me what I ought to do,
That were it not I have some kindness yet
For thee, and will not totally forget
Thy former actions: I would let thee see
What it is truly to contend with me:
And show thee how, when with afflictions cross't
Others are humbled, thou appear'st to boast
Of thy great merits, and presumptuously
Dost think thou meet'st with incongruity,
In these my Dispensations: know then, know
I will not suffer thee to bluster so,
In thy mad humours, on my providence;
Or {confess} thus my actings, but from hence
I do command thee silence; speak not then
In thy late Gibbrish:—do no more complain
Of my proceedings—no—for if thou do it.
He that reproves his God, let him see to it.
And now the man, who formerly did speak
In a bold tone, and lofty dialect;
Who thought he so well understood his case,
As he could even debate it face to face,
With God himself: all overcome with fear,
Just like a man condemn'd, doth now appear:
With Joynts all trembling, Visage pale, and lean,
Eyes sunk so hollow, as if he had been
Within an hour to die.—
At the appearance of his Judge afraid,
Prostrate upon the ground, to all was said,
He only this short, humble answer made.
In a bold tone, and lofty dialect;
Who thought he so well understood his case,
As he could even debate it face to face,
With God himself: all overcome with fear,
Just like a man condemn'd, doth now appear:
With Joynts all trembling, Visage pale, and lean,
Eyes sunk so hollow, as if he had been
Within an hour to die.—
At the appearance of his Judge afraid,
Prostrate upon the ground, to all was said,
He only this short, humble answer made.
Why, Lord, sayes he, I freely do confess
I am all sin, I am all guiltiness:
I am all vileness, nay I am not able
By strength of words t'express how despicable
And mean a thing I am, what dost expect?
What answer, Lord, can such as I am make,
To all thy questions? what, good Lord, I pray
Can such a silly Worm as I am say
To all thou dost demand?—no I will lay
My hand upon my mouth: I will forbear
My former language, and with silence hear
What thou wilt speak, for now I clearly see
There's no more arguing in the case for me.
I am all sin, I am all guiltiness:
I am all vileness, nay I am not able
By strength of words t'express how despicable
And mean a thing I am, what dost expect?
What answer, Lord, can such as I am make,
To all thy questions? what, good Lord, I pray
Can such a silly Worm as I am say
To all thou dost demand?—no I will lay
My hand upon my mouth: I will forbear
My former language, and with silence hear
What thou wilt speak, for now I clearly see
There's no more arguing in the case for me.
Then, since what I have spoke has given offence
To thee, good Lord, I shall forbear from hence
To speak one word, as I have done before,
But here shut up my mouth, and speak no more.
To thee, good Lord, I shall forbear from hence
To speak one word, as I have done before,
But here shut up my mouth, and speak no more.
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To this th'Almighty soon did answer make,
And out of Whirlwind, thus again did speak.
And out of Whirlwind, thus again did speak.
Well now I see thou art convinc'd that what
In thy wild ravings thou hast spoke of late
Deserves reproof; I see thou hast some sense
Of thy extravagant impatience;
But notwithstanding all that thou hast said
Has not such total satisfaction made
As I require: I'le therefore question thee
Again what are thy thoughts concerning me;
Go to then, and behave thee like a man
I will demand thee, answer if thou can.
In thy wild ravings thou hast spoke of late
Deserves reproof; I see thou hast some sense
Of thy extravagant impatience;
But notwithstanding all that thou hast said
Has not such total satisfaction made
As I require: I'le therefore question thee
Again what are thy thoughts concerning me;
Go to then, and behave thee like a man
I will demand thee, answer if thou can.
Thou sayst that thou art righteous, dost not know
Iniquity i'th' least:—why be it so:—
Then here the question lyes 'twixt me and thee,
Which of us two most righteous must be:
For either I in my proceedings must,
Or thou in thy complaining be unjust:
Ther is no medium, as the Case doth ly
And thinkst thou this the way to justify
Thy self, by quarrelling of my equity?
Consider well what thou hast done, reflect
Upon thy misdemeanors; recollect
Thy Reason, and examine how of late
Thou with thy Maker hast expostulate:
Then judge thy self, if for what thou hast said
Thou dost not merit to be punished.
Iniquity i'th' least:—why be it so:—
Then here the question lyes 'twixt me and thee,
Which of us two most righteous must be:
For either I in my proceedings must,
Or thou in thy complaining be unjust:
Ther is no medium, as the Case doth ly
And thinkst thou this the way to justify
Thy self, by quarrelling of my equity?
Consider well what thou hast done, reflect
Upon thy misdemeanors; recollect
Thy Reason, and examine how of late
Thou with thy Maker hast expostulate:
Then judge thy self, if for what thou hast said
Thou dost not merit to be punished.
For now I ask thee, canst thou in the least
Give room to such a motion in thy breast
That any thing like parity can be
But even suppos'd betwixt thy God, and thee?
That thou shouldst value thy own righteousness
At such a rate! and so thy self express,
As if t'afflict so good a man as thee,
Did savour of iniquity in me.
Well wherein then dost think th'equality
Can be conceiv'd 'twixt God and thee to ly?
Canst make huge Armies at thy call assemble,
And with uplifted hand make Nations tremble?
Canst make the Scouts of Lightnings fly abroad,
And manage Thunder, with a voice, like God?
Give room to such a motion in thy breast
That any thing like parity can be
But even suppos'd betwixt thy God, and thee?
That thou shouldst value thy own righteousness
At such a rate! and so thy self express,
As if t'afflict so good a man as thee,
Did savour of iniquity in me.
Well wherein then dost think th'equality
Can be conceiv'd 'twixt God and thee to ly?
Canst make huge Armies at thy call assemble,
And with uplifted hand make Nations tremble?
Canst make the Scouts of Lightnings fly abroad,
And manage Thunder, with a voice, like God?
Canst' thou appear in splendid majesty,
Equal in beauty, and excellency;
With me? can thou, poor dying man, display
Such glory, and thy self with light array,
More bright then th'Sun at Noon-tide of the day?
Equal in beauty, and excellency;
With me? can thou, poor dying man, display
Such glory, and thy self with light array,
More bright then th'Sun at Noon-tide of the day?
Canst thou send out the Serjeants of thy Wrath,
Bring in the proud, and prosecute to death
All those who dare presumptuously dream
They're such, as I can hardly humble them:
Canst thou, sad Creature, cover such with shame?
As I can do? canst in the view of all
With great contempt make such high-soarers fall
From top of all the hopes, which they conceive
Down to the very bottom of the Grave?
Bring in the proud, and prosecute to death
All those who dare presumptuously dream
They're such, as I can hardly humble them:
Canst thou, sad Creature, cover such with shame?
As I can do? canst in the view of all
With great contempt make such high-soarers fall
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Down to the very bottom of the Grave?
Canst break the Projects long time hatch'd by such,
As are ambitious to command too much:
Who vex their Neighbours with unjust Pretences,
And will not hearken to their just Defences;
But with their Sword in hand, do boldly seize
On what they can, and do even what they please:
Whom Oaths, and Treaties can no longer tye,
Then with fresh Troops they can themselves supply.
Which done,—
A Quarrel suitable to their design
Is slily fabricate, and then the Mine
Doth quickly spring, and at the Trumpets sound,
The peaceful Nations are involv'd around
In Blood again; whilst the voracious things
Mounted aloft upon Ambitions wings,
With confidence at no less Prey do fly,
Then that of universal Monarchy.
Do'st thou then,—thou—, thou man of words, do'st know
The ways and methods, how to bring such low?
Canst' take them down? can'st their ambition crush,
And make those mighty Conquerours sadly blush
To see themselves out-done by such as they
Did look upon as conquer'd 't other cay?
And where their Armies us'd abroad to roam,
Canst' turn the chace, and give them work at home?
As are ambitious to command too much:
Who vex their Neighbours with unjust Pretences,
And will not hearken to their just Defences;
But with their Sword in hand, do boldly seize
On what they can, and do even what they please:
Whom Oaths, and Treaties can no longer tye,
Then with fresh Troops they can themselves supply.
Which done,—
A Quarrel suitable to their design
Is slily fabricate, and then the Mine
Doth quickly spring, and at the Trumpets sound,
The peaceful Nations are involv'd around
In Blood again; whilst the voracious things
Mounted aloft upon Ambitions wings,
With confidence at no less Prey do fly,
Then that of universal Monarchy.
Do'st thou then,—thou—, thou man of words, do'st know
The ways and methods, how to bring such low?
Canst' take them down? can'st their ambition crush,
And make those mighty Conquerours sadly blush
To see themselves out-done by such as they
Did look upon as conquer'd 't other cay?
And where their Armies us'd abroad to roam,
Canst' turn the chace, and give them work at home?
Canst' crumble all these men in dust together,
And send them, with their glory, who knows whither?
In some dark corner canst thou make them die,
Where they're attended by no weeping eye,
And not in publick, where the pitying Croud
Of curious Spectators can make proud
The dying Wretches, where they cann't declaim,
Or bribe the favour of a whiffling fame,
By a set speech:
Where none are present, where no standers by
Observe with what composed looks they die,
And so spoil Deaths beloved Pageantry?
And send them, with their glory, who knows whither?
In some dark corner canst thou make them die,
Where they're attended by no weeping eye,
And not in publick, where the pitying Croud
Of curious Spectators can make proud
The dying Wretches, where they cann't declaim,
Or bribe the favour of a whiffling fame,
By a set speech:
Where none are present, where no standers by
Observe with what composed looks they die,
And so spoil Deaths beloved Pageantry?
If all this thou canst do, then I'le confess
And willingly acknowledge thou'rt no less
In power then I am, and that thou canst save
By thy own strength thy body from the Grave.
But since thou art a man so mean, and weak,
As thou canst hardly speak what I can act:
And willingly acknowledge thou'rt no less
In power then I am, and that thou canst save
By thy own strength thy body from the Grave.
But since thou art a man so mean, and weak,
As thou canst hardly speak what I can act:
Then O, poor Mortal, how I pity thee
That proudly offerest to debate with me
Not knowing, as thou shouldst do, who I am,
Nor valuing the glory of my Name
At its true rate: for if thou didst but know
With whom thou hadst to do, thou hadst not so
Express'd thy self, as thou of late has done,
Like mad-man, in the view o'th' open Sun.
For thou must know that I who form'd both thee
And all what thou around dost hear, or see,
Must know how all things should be governed,
Better then any creature I have made.
Know then, that though on Earth there were no more
T'expresse my power, then those of which before
I've made relation: yet since they transcend
Thy knowledge, and thou cans't not comprehend
How, and for what use they at first were fram'd,
And why not men, as well as beasts were nam'd,
I'll show thee in two special instances,
The one on Land, the other on the Seas,
How much my creatures do my worth expresse.
That proudly offerest to debate with me
Not knowing, as thou shouldst do, who I am,
Nor valuing the glory of my Name
At its true rate: for if thou didst but know
With whom thou hadst to do, thou hadst not so
Express'd thy self, as thou of late has done,
Like mad-man, in the view o'th' open Sun.
For thou must know that I who form'd both thee
And all what thou around dost hear, or see,
353
Better then any creature I have made.
Know then, that though on Earth there were no more
T'expresse my power, then those of which before
I've made relation: yet since they transcend
Thy knowledge, and thou cans't not comprehend
How, and for what use they at first were fram'd,
And why not men, as well as beasts were nam'd,
I'll show thee in two special instances,
The one on Land, the other on the Seas,
How much my creatures do my worth expresse.
Observe then Behemoth a first-rate creature,
A beast indeed of a stupendious feature,
Which you may think is that which you do call
The Elephant:—well then, there's one for all,
Observe his body, how he doth exceed
In bulk all creatures that on Earth do feed.
This same huge Animal I did create:
This bulky thing these hands did fabricate:
And yet for all his bulk, and vast extent
Of bones, and sinews I made him content
With the poor Oxe, that labours in the plow,
To feed on grasse, and Hay, and glad so too.
A beast indeed of a stupendious feature,
Which you may think is that which you do call
The Elephant:—well then, there's one for all,
Observe his body, how he doth exceed
In bulk all creatures that on Earth do feed.
This same huge Animal I did create:
This bulky thing these hands did fabricate:
And yet for all his bulk, and vast extent
Of bones, and sinews I made him content
With the poor Oxe, that labours in the plow,
To feed on grasse, and Hay, and glad so too.
Observe then, Job, of how much strength, and force
This creature is, exceeding far the Horse,
And Lyon: for all creatures in the field,
To th'Elephant in force, and strength do yeeld.
His legs, like brazen pillars, do sustain
His close-built body, which with little pain
They bear from place to place, as he doth ramble,
Whilst all the other beasts in forrest tremble
At his appearance: no less honouring
That stately creature, then he were their king.
This creature is, exceeding far the Horse,
And Lyon: for all creatures in the field,
To th'Elephant in force, and strength do yeeld.
His legs, like brazen pillars, do sustain
His close-built body, which with little pain
They bear from place to place, as he doth ramble,
Whilst all the other beasts in forrest tremble
At his appearance: no less honouring
That stately creature, then he were their king.
When his proboscis in the Air he shakes,
With violence, he such a figure makes,
As if a tall, and lofty Cedar spread,
Its Trunk, with all its boughs above its head.
'Tis wonderful to think what strength doth ly
In this proboscis, what activity,
What art, what cunning, what dexterity.
When with it, as one with his hand would do,
He'll mannage Faulchion, Sword, and Dagger too?
When with it he on man, or beast will seize,
Lift them from ground, and throw 'em up with ease,
To th'Garrison o'th' Tower upon his back,
Where they are kill'd: the sinews, which do make
His Trunk so strong, are twisted so together,
As branches of a tree, and move it hither,
And thither, as it pleaseth wantonly,
Though big, and long, with great agility.
With violence, he such a figure makes,
As if a tall, and lofty Cedar spread,
Its Trunk, with all its boughs above its head.
'Tis wonderful to think what strength doth ly
In this proboscis, what activity,
What art, what cunning, what dexterity.
When with it, as one with his hand would do,
He'll mannage Faulchion, Sword, and Dagger too?
When with it he on man, or beast will seize,
Lift them from ground, and throw 'em up with ease,
To th'Garrison o'th' Tower upon his back,
Where they are kill'd: the sinews, which do make
His Trunk so strong, are twisted so together,
As branches of a tree, and move it hither,
And thither, as it pleaseth wantonly,
Though big, and long, with great agility.
Like staves of brass his great bones do appear,
His lesser bones like bars of Iron are.
His lesser bones like bars of Iron are.
Amongst the beasts he terrible appears,
His Trunk the Horse in battel only fears:
The Lion, when he sees him, shrinks apace,
The Tiger dares not look him in the face:
The Boar, the wild Bull, the Rhinoceros,
The Unicorn, and Panther are but dross
Beside pure mettal, when with him compar'd,
The Stag, the Bear, the Wolf, and Leopard
Are all afraid of him, and run for fear,
When, like a walking-Tower, he doth appear.
Yea, man himself no less amaz'd doth fly,
When he perceives this dreadful Beast draw nigh.
For when you men do in closs Battel stand,
And threatning Swords appear in every hand,
With many Bows, and Shields, and many Spears,
And pointed Launces, yet he shrewdly fears
Th'approach of this four-footed Warriour;
Whose blows and throwings he cannot endure.
Yet this same dreadful Beast, I can with ease
Beat down, like other creatures, when I please,
For though—
By reason of his bloods frigidity,
He sometimes lives a hundred years, yet I,
Who made him live, can make him sooner die.
His Trunk the Horse in battel only fears:
354
The Tiger dares not look him in the face:
The Boar, the wild Bull, the Rhinoceros,
The Unicorn, and Panther are but dross
Beside pure mettal, when with him compar'd,
The Stag, the Bear, the Wolf, and Leopard
Are all afraid of him, and run for fear,
When, like a walking-Tower, he doth appear.
Yea, man himself no less amaz'd doth fly,
When he perceives this dreadful Beast draw nigh.
For when you men do in closs Battel stand,
And threatning Swords appear in every hand,
With many Bows, and Shields, and many Spears,
And pointed Launces, yet he shrewdly fears
Th'approach of this four-footed Warriour;
Whose blows and throwings he cannot endure.
Yet this same dreadful Beast, I can with ease
Beat down, like other creatures, when I please,
For though—
By reason of his bloods frigidity,
He sometimes lives a hundred years, yet I,
Who made him live, can make him sooner die.
And now this Beast, as dreadful as he is,
Is tame, and gently peaceable in this,
That with the other Creatures, who do breed
Upon the Mountains, he on Grass doth feed;
As if they were his equals every day,
Whilst round him all the lesser Beasts do play,
Now fearless, not suspecting in the least
The killing wrath of this familiar Beast.
Is tame, and gently peaceable in this,
That with the other Creatures, who do breed
Upon the Mountains, he on Grass doth feed;
As if they were his equals every day,
Whilst round him all the lesser Beasts do play,
Now fearless, not suspecting in the least
The killing wrath of this familiar Beast.
Yet though by day he on the Hills doth feed,
When night approaches he doth make his bed
In warmer places, and delights to ly
Under the sweet, and spacious Canopy
Of some tall branching Oak: where this tall Beast
As in a Pallace doth securely rest:
Or under covert of Bull-rushes, Reeds,
Low-spreading Willows, or thick bushy Weeds,
That flourish about Fenns, and Marishes,
And there he lays him down, and sleeps with ease.
When night approaches he doth make his bed
In warmer places, and delights to ly
Under the sweet, and spacious Canopy
Of some tall branching Oak: where this tall Beast
As in a Pallace doth securely rest:
Or under covert of Bull-rushes, Reeds,
Low-spreading Willows, or thick bushy Weeds,
That flourish about Fenns, and Marishes,
And there he lays him down, and sleeps with ease.
Under the shadow of the Trees he lyes,
Couching upon his Belly, with his Thighs
And Legs laid under him, and doth not lean
Upon the Trunk o'th' Tree, as some do faign,
'Cause wanting Joynts, he could not rise again,
Should he ly down: no, but as other Beasts,
For all his bulk, he feeds, he moves, he rests.
Couching upon his Belly, with his Thighs
And Legs laid under him, and doth not lean
Upon the Trunk o'th' Tree, as some do faign,
'Cause wanting Joynts, he could not rise again,
Should he ly down: no, but as other Beasts,
For all his bulk, he feeds, he moves, he rests.
When to the River he for drink draws nigh,
Like other Beasts, he drinks not hastily,
As if the Huntsman, with his Hounds were by:
Nor stands he on the Bank, but boldly wades
Into the Channel, and securely treads
The onzy Bottom, whilst his bulk doth seem
To stop the very current of the stream.
For, ere he drink, he plunges for some time,
And with his feet doth raise, and mix the slime,
O'th' bottome with the current, till it be
So thick, and muddy, as he cannot see
His feet below him, for he doth not care
To drink the water, when 'tis pure, and clear,
As other beasts are us'd to do, but when
He has thus troubled all about him, then
He drinks securely at his ease, and leasure,
Void of all fear, with great delight, and pleasure.
Yes, Tuns of Water to appease his drouth,
He by his Trunk doth pump into his mouth.
Nay, should he chance by Jordans streams to graze
He'd drain that River in not many days.
Like other Beasts, he drinks not hastily,
As if the Huntsman, with his Hounds were by:
Nor stands he on the Bank, but boldly wades
Into the Channel, and securely treads
The onzy Bottom, whilst his bulk doth seem
To stop the very current of the stream.
For, ere he drink, he plunges for some time,
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O'th' bottome with the current, till it be
So thick, and muddy, as he cannot see
His feet below him, for he doth not care
To drink the water, when 'tis pure, and clear,
As other beasts are us'd to do, but when
He has thus troubled all about him, then
He drinks securely at his ease, and leasure,
Void of all fear, with great delight, and pleasure.
Yes, Tuns of Water to appease his drouth,
He by his Trunk doth pump into his mouth.
Nay, should he chance by Jordans streams to graze
He'd drain that River in not many days.
For in his thirst he greedily doth seem,
As at one draught, hee'd swallow up the stream:
And then he drinks too, with such eagerness,
As though both Reeds and Bushes he doth press
For water, and what else doth him oppose,
He bores it through with his prodigious nose.
Now this same creature, though he doth excell
In strength, both thee, and all on earth that dwell;
Yet owes he all this strength to me alone,
Who gave it to him, and will stoop to none,
But me, for while he has my liberty,
He lives, when I recall it, instantly
For all his strength, he mustly down, and dy.
As at one draught, hee'd swallow up the stream:
And then he drinks too, with such eagerness,
As though both Reeds and Bushes he doth press
For water, and what else doth him oppose,
He bores it through with his prodigious nose.
Now this same creature, though he doth excell
In strength, both thee, and all on earth that dwell;
Yet owes he all this strength to me alone,
Who gave it to him, and will stoop to none,
But me, for while he has my liberty,
He lives, when I recall it, instantly
For all his strength, he mustly down, and dy.
Cap. XLI.
Thus having shown thee how I do command
All things that have their beeing on the land:
Now I'le inform thee of my pow'r at Sea,
And show thee what vast Creatures too there be
Within that District, which though they appear
To thee, and others, to be Soveraign there;
And by their bulks, to those, who Plow the Seas
Would something like unlimit power express,
Yet they are but my Vassals, and are even
Subject to th'Admirality of Heaven,
As well as all the smallest Fishes are,
That swiming in the Ocean appear.
To give you then for all, one notable,
And famous instance, as most suitable
To my intent: I'd have thee seriously
Observe (but with a meditating eye)
The Princely Leviathan, such a creature,
As shall hereafter furnish no small matter
Of dispute in your solemn Homilies,
What this same Leviathan signifies.
But whatsoe're it be, it is a thing
Of such a force, beyond all reasoning,
As all the force of man cannot subdue,
And where it swimes is yet but known to few.
Canst draw this Leviathan then, with ease
By simple hook, or line out of the Seas,
Like other Fishes? hale him on the Land,
By force of rops, and kill him on the sand?
All things that have their beeing on the land:
Now I'le inform thee of my pow'r at Sea,
And show thee what vast Creatures too there be
Within that District, which though they appear
To thee, and others, to be Soveraign there;
And by their bulks, to those, who Plow the Seas
Would something like unlimit power express,
Yet they are but my Vassals, and are even
Subject to th'Admirality of Heaven,
As well as all the smallest Fishes are,
That swiming in the Ocean appear.
To give you then for all, one notable,
And famous instance, as most suitable
To my intent: I'd have thee seriously
Observe (but with a meditating eye)
The Princely Leviathan, such a creature,
As shall hereafter furnish no small matter
Of dispute in your solemn Homilies,
What this same Leviathan signifies.
But whatsoe're it be, it is a thing
Of such a force, beyond all reasoning,
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And where it swimes is yet but known to few.
Canst draw this Leviathan then, with ease
By simple hook, or line out of the Seas,
Like other Fishes? hale him on the Land,
By force of rops, and kill him on the sand?
Canst thou with angle catch this Fish? canst thou,
When catch'd, as men with lesser Fishes do,
String him upon a hook, a thorn, or cleck,
And bear him lightly home upon thy back?
When catch'd, as men with lesser Fishes do,
String him upon a hook, a thorn, or cleck,
And bear him lightly home upon thy back?
Dost think, if thou should catch him, that he'll cry,
To thee for quarter, and degeneratly
Offer to be thy slave, as th'Elephant,
To thee for quarter, and degeneratly
Offer to be thy slave, as th'Elephant,
And all the other beasts will covenant
To save their lives? or will he offer thee,
As others do, a ransom to be free?
Dost think he'll supplicat, and speak thee fair,
That thou forsooth in pity shouldst him spare,
And not with Hatchet cut him down to pieces,
And of his bulk make havock, as thou pleases?
To save their lives? or will he offer thee,
As others do, a ransom to be free?
Dost think he'll supplicat, and speak thee fair,
That thou forsooth in pity shouldst him spare,
And not with Hatchet cut him down to pieces,
And of his bulk make havock, as thou pleases?
Canst tame him so by art, as thou canst make
Thy boys in playing with him pleasure take,
As they with other beasts are us'd to do,
And birds of several species? canst thou,
As with a pretty linnet, with him dandle?
And make him gentle for thy girles to handle?
Thy boys in playing with him pleasure take,
As they with other beasts are us'd to do,
And birds of several species? canst thou,
As with a pretty linnet, with him dandle?
And make him gentle for thy girles to handle?
Upon him shalt thou, and thy partners feast,
And of his fat, and oily bulk make waste?
Gobbets of him to friends, as tokens send,
And to each merchant give his dividend?
And of his fat, and oily bulk make waste?
Gobbets of him to friends, as tokens send,
And to each merchant give his dividend?
Dar'st thou with barbed Irons boldly fall
Upon this Fish, as men do on a Whale,
And when his body is stuck full of these,
Let him at ropes-end tumble in the Seas;
Till overcome with pain, he forcibly
Doth rush his belly on the shore, and dy?
Upon this Fish, as men do on a Whale,
And when his body is stuck full of these,
Let him at ropes-end tumble in the Seas;
Till overcome with pain, he forcibly
Doth rush his belly on the shore, and dy?
Do—lay thy hands upon him, then thou'lt see
By sad experience, he is not to be
So tamely catch'd: thou'lt see what he can do,
What cunning art he will practise, and how
To save his life, he'll all his force assemble,
And make the very stoutest of you tremble.
By sad experience, he is not to be
So tamely catch'd: thou'lt see what he can do,
What cunning art he will practise, and how
To save his life, he'll all his force assemble,
And make the very stoutest of you tremble.
Then, as thou wouldst desire to live, forbear
T'assault this war-like thing with hook or spear:
That man who thinks to catch him, is not wise,
For he can kill one with his very eyes.
T'assault this war-like thing with hook or spear:
That man who thinks to catch him, is not wise,
For he can kill one with his very eyes.
Since then there's none of you, who dares attacque
This mortal creature, which my hands did make:
Since no man dares contend with him: who's he
That lives on Earth, and dares contend with me?
This mortal creature, which my hands did make:
Since no man dares contend with him: who's he
That lives on Earth, and dares contend with me?
Who's he amongst you all, that dares contend
With me? who's he of you, that dares pretend
By any merit t'have oblig'd me so,
That I should to him any kindness show?
Fools that you are! doth even the best of you,
By all your tears, good works, and fastings too,
Or any thing that man on Earth can doe
Suppose you can of Heaven a purchase make,
Or of your God, in gratitude expect,
Not as a favour, but as a reward,
What I have from Eternity prepar'd,
For such of you as I intend to blesse,
After this life, with so much happinesse.
A happinesse to which no man can claim,
And those are fools, that confidently dream,
They by their art of living can attain,
What all, without my aid, attempt in vain.
Nor am I oblig'd in this Earth to show
Kindnesse to any of you, or bestow
A foot of ground upon the best of you,
For any good, you by your selves can do,
No all you do possesse: all you design,
Your property on Earth is simply mine:
And what you think your own inheritance,
Is only yours by my pure tollerance.
I do to this man a large portion give,
To th'other hardly whereupon to live,
I do allow: from this man I do take
What I have given, and I do quickly make
The other rich, for all that you can see
Under the tract of Heavens, belongs to me,
So that,—
If what I give, I do assume again,
Who's he, that of me justly can complain?
When only I dispose of what's my own,
As I think fit, as being bound to none
For any favour and what all of you,
In your own triffling matters daily do.
With me? who's he of you, that dares pretend
By any merit t'have oblig'd me so,
That I should to him any kindness show?
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By all your tears, good works, and fastings too,
Or any thing that man on Earth can doe
Suppose you can of Heaven a purchase make,
Or of your God, in gratitude expect,
Not as a favour, but as a reward,
What I have from Eternity prepar'd,
For such of you as I intend to blesse,
After this life, with so much happinesse.
A happinesse to which no man can claim,
And those are fools, that confidently dream,
They by their art of living can attain,
What all, without my aid, attempt in vain.
Nor am I oblig'd in this Earth to show
Kindnesse to any of you, or bestow
A foot of ground upon the best of you,
For any good, you by your selves can do,
No all you do possesse: all you design,
Your property on Earth is simply mine:
And what you think your own inheritance,
Is only yours by my pure tollerance.
I do to this man a large portion give,
To th'other hardly whereupon to live,
I do allow: from this man I do take
What I have given, and I do quickly make
The other rich, for all that you can see
Under the tract of Heavens, belongs to me,
So that,—
If what I give, I do assume again,
Who's he, that of me justly can complain?
When only I dispose of what's my own,
As I think fit, as being bound to none
For any favour and what all of you,
In your own triffling matters daily do.
And now that I may further evidence,
Besides the bulk, the worth, and excellence
Of this great Leviathan: I wil show,
What of this creature yet thou dost not know.
Besides the bulk, the worth, and excellence
Of this great Leviathan: I wil show,
What of this creature yet thou dost not know.
Who's he so bold, as dares cut off his sin?
Sieze on his body, flea him of his skin?
Make a rude bit reverberat his tooth?
Or make a double bridle rule his mouth?
Sieze on his body, flea him of his skin?
Make a rude bit reverberat his tooth?
Or make a double bridle rule his mouth?
He, who by main force, can his lips unfold,
And underprop his jaws, may there behold,
How like a Princes Court his mouth doth show,
Where teeth, like Halbardiers, stand all arow
To guard the tongue, which there doth ly in state,
And under th'arched palate keeps its seat.
And underprop his jaws, may there behold,
How like a Princes Court his mouth doth show,
Where teeth, like Halbardiers, stand all arow
To guard the tongue, which there doth ly in state,
And under th'arched palate keeps its seat.
Like a strong shield of proof his scales appear
So that he doth not any mortal fear,
Covered with these, but doth in them confide,
And shows in these a great part of his pride.
So that he doth not any mortal fear,
Covered with these, but doth in them confide,
And shows in these a great part of his pride.
For they together are indented so,
As 'twixt their junctures no sharp air can blow.
As 'twixt their junctures no sharp air can blow.
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They stick together so conglutinate
By nature, as no art can separate
Those clinging scales, which altogether make
A figure, as if he upon his back
Did wear a Coat of Steel, of Brass, or Iron,
And tempered Mettals did him all environ.
By nature, as no art can separate
Those clinging scales, which altogether make
A figure, as if he upon his back
Did wear a Coat of Steel, of Brass, or Iron,
And tempered Mettals did him all environ.
But when at any time he doth appear
Above the Water, what a horrid fear
Spreads he upon the Seas, both far and near.
For, when from Top-mast, Mariners descry
This floating Mountain, they do by and by
Steer to the weather-hand, to shun his wake,
With all the Sail, they for their lives can make,
Because, as if he neez'd, he often throws
Such quantity of Waters from his nose,
Above the Water, what a horrid fear
Spreads he upon the Seas, both far and near.
For, when from Top-mast, Mariners descry
This floating Mountain, they do by and by
Steer to the weather-hand, to shun his wake,
With all the Sail, they for their lives can make,
Because, as if he neez'd, he often throws
Such quantity of Waters from his nose,
Up in the Air, which by the Suns reflex
Appear at distance, like a flame convex:
As no Ships dare approach him, out of fear,
He'd overwhelm them, if they should draw near.
For from his mouth,—
The broken waters flee, like sparks of fire,
Which causes the Sea-faring-man admire
What Creature this must be, that with such ease
Can raise a tempest in the calmest Seas.
Appear at distance, like a flame convex:
As no Ships dare approach him, out of fear,
He'd overwhelm them, if they should draw near.
For from his mouth,—
The broken waters flee, like sparks of fire,
Which causes the Sea-faring-man admire
What Creature this must be, that with such ease
Can raise a tempest in the calmest Seas.
Smoak from his Nostrils issues out so hot,
As from a Cauldron, or a boyling Pot,
When he doth belch out no small quantity,
Of thick, and fulsome vapours in the sky.
As from a Cauldron, or a boyling Pot,
When he doth belch out no small quantity,
Of thick, and fulsome vapours in the sky.
Yes, for he's able by his breath to blow
Fire out of Coals, and out of darkness show
A flaming light: for from his mouth, by turns,
As at first kindling, when a Coal-fire burns,
Now sulph'rous smoak, then flames do issue out,
And fill with terrour all the Seas about.
Fire out of Coals, and out of darkness show
A flaming light: for from his mouth, by turns,
As at first kindling, when a Coal-fire burns,
Now sulph'rous smoak, then flames do issue out,
And fill with terrour all the Seas about.
In his thick neck such strength and vigour lyes,
As all the force of Iron he defyes:
For all the power of man he doth not care,
And laughs at things which other creatures fear.
As all the force of Iron he defyes:
For all the power of man he doth not care,
And laughs at things which other creatures fear.
The fibres of his flesh are joyn'd together
So firmly, that none can distinguish either:
So solidly compacted, and comprest
Each within other, as nor Fish, nor Beast
Can show the like, so strongly grain'd, and fresh,
As it doth rather look like Oak, then Flesh.
So firmly, that none can distinguish either:
So solidly compacted, and comprest
Each within other, as nor Fish, nor Beast
Can show the like, so strongly grain'd, and fresh,
As it doth rather look like Oak, then Flesh.
Now as for strength, he's wonderfully made,
So he in courage all things doth exceed
That ever life enjoy'd: he knows no fear,
But doth a heart of resolution bear:
A heart so firm, and so unmoveable
By any threats, as 'tis incapable
Of that weak passion, with which others are
Infected, so well known by name of fear.
So he in courage all things doth exceed
That ever life enjoy'd: he knows no fear,
But doth a heart of resolution bear:
A heart so firm, and so unmoveable
By any threats, as 'tis incapable
Of that weak passion, with which others are
Infected, so well known by name of fear.
For he's so far from being capable
Of fear himself, that he's intolerable
In his insults, and able too to raise
Such terrour 'mongst th'inhabitants o'th' Seas,
As by one look he can make all, that's there
Yea, even the swiming Oak, to sweat for fear,
And shrewdly damps the stoutest Mariner.
For all a-board a Ship, when from the Deck
They see the Waters at great distance break:
By which, as by an usual Sign, they guess,
The Leviathan tumbles in the Seas,
As if their death approach'd, do quickly fall
Upon their knees, and to Devotion all
Apply themselves, because they sadly think
He'll by his Water-spout their Vessels sink.
Of fear himself, that he's intolerable
In his insults, and able too to raise
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As by one look he can make all, that's there
Yea, even the swiming Oak, to sweat for fear,
And shrewdly damps the stoutest Mariner.
For all a-board a Ship, when from the Deck
They see the Waters at great distance break:
By which, as by an usual Sign, they guess,
The Leviathan tumbles in the Seas,
As if their death approach'd, do quickly fall
Upon their knees, and to Devotion all
Apply themselves, because they sadly think
He'll by his Water-spout their Vessels sink.
Or if there's any of the Crew so bold,
As thinks upon this creature to lay hold,
By force of Arms they do attempt in vain,
For this undaunted thing will not be tane
At any rate: the Sword, Dart, Javelin,
Do but make such a noise upon his skin,
As one with Steel would strike upon a Bell,
And, 'stead of piercing, make it only knell.
But where he doth assault, there's no defence
Against his blows, with so great violence
He rushes on, as he doth soon prevail
Against your cuirass, or through Coat of Mail.
As thinks upon this creature to lay hold,
By force of Arms they do attempt in vain,
For this undaunted thing will not be tane
At any rate: the Sword, Dart, Javelin,
Do but make such a noise upon his skin,
As one with Steel would strike upon a Bell,
And, 'stead of piercing, make it only knell.
But where he doth assault, there's no defence
Against his blows, with so great violence
He rushes on, as he doth soon prevail
Against your cuirass, or through Coat of Mail.
Iron, as Chaff, and Straw he doth contemn,
And Brass, as rotten Wood he doth esteem.
And Brass, as rotten Wood he doth esteem.
The force of Arrows cannot make him fly,
Though th'Archer on him his best skill should try:
No Engine can prejudge him, life, or limb,
Stones from the Sling are but Boyes-play to him.
Though th'Archer on him his best skill should try:
No Engine can prejudge him, life, or limb,
Stones from the Sling are but Boyes-play to him.
Your pointed Darts, which men do at him throw,
And think, by force, and art to catch him so,
He doth no more, then Straws, or Rushes fear,
And laughs aloud at shaking of your Spear.
And think, by force, and art to catch him so,
He doth no more, then Straws, or Rushes fear,
And laughs aloud at shaking of your Spear.
Then for his Lodgings, where do you suppose
This creature makes his bed? not in the Ouze,
As other Fishes, or in muds or mires,
Not he, for he no softer quilt desires
Then sharpest Rocks in bottom of the Seas,
Where, as on Bed of Douns he sleeps with ease.
This creature makes his bed? not in the Ouze,
As other Fishes, or in muds or mires,
Not he, for he no softer quilt desires
Then sharpest Rocks in bottom of the Seas,
Where, as on Bed of Douns he sleeps with ease.
When he doth swim, his motion is so strong,
That one would think the Ocean all along,
Where he doth move, by the great scum of Oyl,
Appears about him, really did boyl.
That one would think the Ocean all along,
Where he doth move, by the great scum of Oyl,
Appears about him, really did boyl.
Yes, where he moves, he leaves a foaming line
Behind him, on the surface of the Brine,
Which doth, like flames, at a great distance shine.
The Waves are with its froath so pouldered,
As one would think the deep a hoary head.
Behind him, on the surface of the Brine,
Which doth, like flames, at a great distance shine.
The Waves are with its froath so pouldered,
As one would think the deep a hoary head.
In fine, he doth in strength so much excell,
The spacious earth has not his parallell.
At his approach, the trembling Seas make way,
And with profound submission obey
His transient orders: furnish him with all
What he for his convenience doth call;
Where e're he marches, and allow for meat,
What of their subjects he thinks best to eat.
The spacious earth has not his parallell.
At his approach, the trembling Seas make way,
And with profound submission obey
His transient orders: furnish him with all
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Where e're he marches, and allow for meat,
What of their subjects he thinks best to eat.
All other creatures, with disdainful eye
He views: no creature in conceit so high,
Inhabits under Heavens Canopy.
For all that in the Ocean do swim,
Daily, and hourly tribute pay to him:
They pay whatever they're by him assess't,
And dare not whisper that they are oppress't:
For if upon their grievances they fall,
And of their laws, and priviledges bawl,
He'll at one break-fast, soon devour them all.
Never let crowned head with him dispute,
No King on Earth can be so absolute.
He views: no creature in conceit so high,
Inhabits under Heavens Canopy.
For all that in the Ocean do swim,
Daily, and hourly tribute pay to him:
They pay whatever they're by him assess't,
And dare not whisper that they are oppress't:
For if upon their grievances they fall,
And of their laws, and priviledges bawl,
He'll at one break-fast, soon devour them all.
Never let crowned head with him dispute,
No King on Earth can be so absolute.
Cap. XLII.
Thus the Almighty having opened
His Cabinet of Nature, and display'd
His glory by the works of his Creation,
And of them all made wholesome application,
To th'present state of this afflicted man,
Then Job, with great submission, began
To answer, and thus openly confesse
Gods wisdom, and his own great foolishnesse.
His Cabinet of Nature, and display'd
His glory by the works of his Creation,
And of them all made wholesome application,
To th'present state of this afflicted man,
Then Job, with great submission, began
To answer, and thus openly confesse
Gods wisdom, and his own great foolishnesse.
Now, says he, Lord, I fully do believe,
Now, as the light, I clearly do perceive,
That thou,—thou art that God Omnipotent,
Who has his Throne above the Firmament.
Now I'm convinc'd that never hithertoo
I fully understood, as I do now
How great thou art: although I fancyed
I knew thee so well, that I did not need
Further instruction; but now thou hast shown,
That I before this time have nothing known,
Of what I ought most to have studied,
And now, my God, I do confesse indeed,
That in my great impatience, all this time,
I've fouly err'd; I do confess my crime.
Lord, I knew nothing, but I now do know
That thou art he, to whom all things below
Do owe their Being: that thy eye doth see
Better then we our selves, what ever we
Do act, or speak: that every secret thought
Lodg'd in our breasts, before thy Bar is brought,
There try'd, convict, condemned, or acquit,
As thou our Soveraign Judge think'st just, and fit:
I know that all things are to thee reveal'd,
And nothing from thy eye can be conceal'd.
Now, as the light, I clearly do perceive,
That thou,—thou art that God Omnipotent,
Who has his Throne above the Firmament.
Now I'm convinc'd that never hithertoo
I fully understood, as I do now
How great thou art: although I fancyed
I knew thee so well, that I did not need
Further instruction; but now thou hast shown,
That I before this time have nothing known,
Of what I ought most to have studied,
And now, my God, I do confesse indeed,
That in my great impatience, all this time,
I've fouly err'd; I do confess my crime.
Lord, I knew nothing, but I now do know
That thou art he, to whom all things below
Do owe their Being: that thy eye doth see
Better then we our selves, what ever we
Do act, or speak: that every secret thought
Lodg'd in our breasts, before thy Bar is brought,
There try'd, convict, condemned, or acquit,
As thou our Soveraign Judge think'st just, and fit:
I know that all things are to thee reveal'd,
And nothing from thy eye can be conceal'd.
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And where's the man now?—where is that so wise
And knowing thing, that in his own vain eyes
Appear'd in much esteem, and thought he knew
His Maker fully,—ah—where is he now?
I am the man, Lord, I am he, alace,
That did my thoughts, in passion, express
Of thee below thy worth: I am the man,
That of all mortals, since the world began,
At thy just hands doth most deserve indeed
For his miscarriage to be punished.
Nor can I from my passion draw excuse
For my great errors, for that were to use
One crime, to palliat another:—no,
I can make no excuse, because I know
To be in passion was it self a crime,
And so I have supported all this time
One error with an other: I am he
Then that hath doubly sinn'd:—Lord do by me
As thou thinks just: I no more deprecate
Thy wrath, but in my present sad estate
Am still content to live, and patiently
Endure it to the last extremity,
Without repining; since thou hast decreed,
And by thy Providence so ordered,
That I should be afflicted for my sins,
I shall imagine that my woe begins,
Even from this instant, and without all passion,
From this hour forward bear thy indignation.
And knowing thing, that in his own vain eyes
Appear'd in much esteem, and thought he knew
His Maker fully,—ah—where is he now?
I am the man, Lord, I am he, alace,
That did my thoughts, in passion, express
Of thee below thy worth: I am the man,
That of all mortals, since the world began,
At thy just hands doth most deserve indeed
For his miscarriage to be punished.
Nor can I from my passion draw excuse
For my great errors, for that were to use
One crime, to palliat another:—no,
I can make no excuse, because I know
To be in passion was it self a crime,
And so I have supported all this time
One error with an other: I am he
Then that hath doubly sinn'd:—Lord do by me
As thou thinks just: I no more deprecate
Thy wrath, but in my present sad estate
Am still content to live, and patiently
Endure it to the last extremity,
Without repining; since thou hast decreed,
And by thy Providence so ordered,
That I should be afflicted for my sins,
I shall imagine that my woe begins,
Even from this instant, and without all passion,
From this hour forward bear thy indignation.
Only I do demand the liberty
To ask some questions of thy Majesty;
Not to debate, (for now I plainly see
What 'tis for frail man to contend with thee)
I ask then, since I am convinced now
Of my late errors, Lord, what shall I do
To make attonement, for my great offence;
What course of living shall I take from hence,
That into so great inconvenience,
I may not be by passion led again,
But may some favour at thy hands obtain.
To ask some questions of thy Majesty;
Not to debate, (for now I plainly see
What 'tis for frail man to contend with thee)
I ask then, since I am convinced now
Of my late errors, Lord, what shall I do
To make attonement, for my great offence;
What course of living shall I take from hence,
That into so great inconvenience,
I may not be by passion led again,
But may some favour at thy hands obtain.
Before this I have only heard by fame
Of thy great actings, and thy mighty name:
But now, Lord, with my eyes, I thee behold:
These eyes have seen thee: now I may be bold,
Since I have heard thee speak upon my case,
To say that I have seen thee face to face.
Of thy great actings, and thy mighty name:
But now, Lord, with my eyes, I thee behold:
These eyes have seen thee: now I may be bold,
Since I have heard thee speak upon my case,
To say that I have seen thee face to face.
My self I therefore utterly abhore,
And on my Parts I will presume no more:
I'll think I have known nothing all this while,
And at my own unknowing-knowledge smile:
I'll think I now know more then e're I did,
Since thou, in kindness, hast discovered,
How little I in former times have known,
Of what I should have studied alone.
I thought indeed my knowledge had been such,
And by experience I had learn'd so much,
As I, in excess, not defect, might err,
But now, alace, it fully doth appear
That I knew nothing in regard of what
From thy own mouth, I've been inform'd of late.
Now I'm convinc'd that I have sinn'd: from hence
I'le no more vainly plead my innocence,
But for my failings piously lament,
And of my errours from my heart repent.
And on my Parts I will presume no more:
I'll think I have known nothing all this while,
And at my own unknowing-knowledge smile:
I'll think I now know more then e're I did,
Since thou, in kindness, hast discovered,
How little I in former times have known,
Of what I should have studied alone.
I thought indeed my knowledge had been such,
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As I, in excess, not defect, might err,
But now, alace, it fully doth appear
That I knew nothing in regard of what
From thy own mouth, I've been inform'd of late.
Now I'm convinc'd that I have sinn'd: from hence
I'le no more vainly plead my innocence,
But for my failings piously lament,
And of my errours from my heart repent.
Job thus accus'd, convict, and censured,
For his impatience: God doth next proceed
To show his three Friends, wherein they had err'd,
Whilst they had stifly all along averr'd
That Job was sinful, because punished,
And so augmented, not diminished
The good mans sorrow, which they should ha' done,
Had they been his true friends: but they alone,
Appear to have accus'd him, and in stead
Of comforting him, to have truly plead
He was a man of so much wickedness,
As for his sins, he had deserv'd no less
Than what he suffer'd: and with so much heat,
Upon that subject, did with him debate,
As if they meant to make him desperate.
Now after all, the Supream Judge thinks fit
To show them likewise, how upon their wit,
Indeed themselves they valued too much,
And out of humour more to be thought such,
Then for his glory, they had argued
Against their friend on that mistaken head.
Thus then to th'wise and learned Eliphaz
Th'Almighty sharply did himself address.
I do perceive, sayes he, thou'rt one of those,
That do mistake my actings, and suppose
That my proceedings must be regulate
By Humane Reason, and accommodate
To your capacity: for you have said
That in affliction one may plainly read
His sin, and my displeasure, and that none
But sinful, and flagitious men alone
Do in affliction tumble, and from thence,
(As you thought, wisely) with much eloquence
Inferr'd that Job, whom I long time have known
To be upright, and still for such do own:
Because afflicted, of necessity,
Must be a man of great impiety.
For his impatience: God doth next proceed
To show his three Friends, wherein they had err'd,
Whilst they had stifly all along averr'd
That Job was sinful, because punished,
And so augmented, not diminished
The good mans sorrow, which they should ha' done,
Had they been his true friends: but they alone,
Appear to have accus'd him, and in stead
Of comforting him, to have truly plead
He was a man of so much wickedness,
As for his sins, he had deserv'd no less
Than what he suffer'd: and with so much heat,
Upon that subject, did with him debate,
As if they meant to make him desperate.
Now after all, the Supream Judge thinks fit
To show them likewise, how upon their wit,
Indeed themselves they valued too much,
And out of humour more to be thought such,
Then for his glory, they had argued
Against their friend on that mistaken head.
Thus then to th'wise and learned Eliphaz
Th'Almighty sharply did himself address.
I do perceive, sayes he, thou'rt one of those,
That do mistake my actings, and suppose
That my proceedings must be regulate
By Humane Reason, and accommodate
To your capacity: for you have said
That in affliction one may plainly read
His sin, and my displeasure, and that none
But sinful, and flagitious men alone
Do in affliction tumble, and from thence,
(As you thought, wisely) with much eloquence
Inferr'd that Job, whom I long time have known
To be upright, and still for such do own:
Because afflicted, of necessity,
Must be a man of great impiety.
Who taught you thus to speak? who taught you so
To argue, as if you did fully know
The method of my Government, and were
Of Council with me? who taught you t'inferr
Such positive conclusions, as these
From any unaffording premisses,
Of my proceedings? who gave you commission
To speak thus to a man in Jobs condition:
As if a man, whom I had visit, you
Would in afflicting language visit too.
Know then I'm angry with thee, and thy friends,
Because you have so rashly spoke your minds
Of my proceedings, in the present case
Of my good Servant Job.—
For you have not talk'd of my Providence,
With that entire respect, and deference,
As did become you: nor have you at best,
In any of your reasonings express't
Your selves like men of zeal, and piety,
As Job has done, but rather foolishly
Maintain'd your own opinions right, or wrong
Against the suffering person all along.
Nay, you pretended too, you plead for me,
Whilst neither to the other two, nor thee,
I ever gave commission so to do;
And therefore you have all three err'd; but now
That I intend to set my Servant free
From his afflictions, and let all men see,
That what this man has suffered, was meant
For tryal only, not for punishment,
And make of him a famous President,
In all time coming, of my Providence,
And an example of great patience;
I'll censure you no more, but for the time
Let it suffice that I have touch'd your crime.
To argue, as if you did fully know
The method of my Government, and were
Of Council with me? who taught you t'inferr
Such positive conclusions, as these
From any unaffording premisses,
Of my proceedings? who gave you commission
To speak thus to a man in Jobs condition:
As if a man, whom I had visit, you
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Know then I'm angry with thee, and thy friends,
Because you have so rashly spoke your minds
Of my proceedings, in the present case
Of my good Servant Job.—
For you have not talk'd of my Providence,
With that entire respect, and deference,
As did become you: nor have you at best,
In any of your reasonings express't
Your selves like men of zeal, and piety,
As Job has done, but rather foolishly
Maintain'd your own opinions right, or wrong
Against the suffering person all along.
Nay, you pretended too, you plead for me,
Whilst neither to the other two, nor thee,
I ever gave commission so to do;
And therefore you have all three err'd; but now
That I intend to set my Servant free
From his afflictions, and let all men see,
That what this man has suffered, was meant
For tryal only, not for punishment,
And make of him a famous President,
In all time coming, of my Providence,
And an example of great patience;
I'll censure you no more, but for the time
Let it suffice that I have touch'd your crime.
8. Therefore take unto you now seven bullocks, and seven rams, and go to my servant Iob, and offer up for your selves a burnt-offering, and my servant Iob shall pray for you; for him I will accept, lest I deal with you after your folly, in that ye have not spoken of me the things which are right, like my servant Iob.
Attonement for your faults, go therefore take,
Seven Bullocks, and seven Rams, and offer these
As a burnt offering for your trespasses.
Go—do what I command, for you have err'd,
And your own knowledge to my words preferr'd.
But for your sins make a burnt-offering now,
And so my servant Job shall pray for you.
Him, because truly pious, I will hear,
On your behalf, and for his sake forbear
To punish you: although what you have said,
Since you begun to speak, has merited
Much of my wrath: but go—do so no more,
And I will pardon what you've done before.
Prostrat upon the ground lay Eliphaz,
With his two friends, asham'd to show his face,
While God did speak, because convinc'd at length
That they had laboured, with the utmost strength
Of argument to broach a Heresie,
Which had descended to Posterity,
As a firm truth, and been receiv'd of all
As a position fully general,
That all Gods actings were determined
By those of men, and that none suffered
But for their sins: if God had not declar'd
By his just Sentence, that these men had err'd.
Without replying then to what was laid
By God Almighty to their charge, they pray'd
Their injur'd friend for them to interceed:
With his two friends, asham'd to show his face,
While God did speak, because convinc'd at length
That they had laboured, with the utmost strength
Of argument to broach a Heresie,
Which had descended to Posterity,
As a firm truth, and been receiv'd of all
As a position fully general,
That all Gods actings were determined
By those of men, and that none suffered
But for their sins: if God had not declar'd
By his just Sentence, that these men had err'd.
Without replying then to what was laid
By God Almighty to their charge, they pray'd
Their injur'd friend for them to interceed:
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Now, all obedience they did quickly bring,
As God had ordered, their sin-offering;
And with great zeal, did make attonement
For their unsound, presumptuous argument.
Whilst Elihu, who, as appears, has been
A learn'd young-man, pious, upright, and clean
I'th' eyes of God, and had by inspiration,
From his great Maker, spoke on this occasion,
Is not reprov'd, and therefore we may guess,
He joyn'd his prayer with Job in this address
For these three men; which prayer God did hear,
And gently for their sake, was pleas'd to spare
Those who had err'd. Thus God determined
The case of Job: thus he at length decreed,
For the afflicted man against his friends,
And thus in mercy the grand Tryal ends.
As God had ordered, their sin-offering;
And with great zeal, did make attonement
For their unsound, presumptuous argument.
Whilst Elihu, who, as appears, has been
A learn'd young-man, pious, upright, and clean
I'th' eyes of God, and had by inspiration,
From his great Maker, spoke on this occasion,
Is not reprov'd, and therefore we may guess,
He joyn'd his prayer with Job in this address
For these three men; which prayer God did hear,
And gently for their sake, was pleas'd to spare
Those who had err'd. Thus God determined
The case of Job: thus he at length decreed,
For the afflicted man against his friends,
And thus in mercy the grand Tryal ends.
For now, as when the Sun imprisoned
Long time amongst thick clouds, begins to spread
His rays abroad, and shine as formerly,
The proud, insulting vapours by, and by
Dissolve themselves into a subtile air,
And now the Sun triumphant doth appear
In his full splendour, darting every where
His warming beams, and makes the Skys again,
After the storm, look pleasant, and serene.
So now th'Almighty having fully try'd
The worth of Job, and being satisfy'd
Of his deportment in his misery,
Dispels the clouds of his adversity,
And puts an end to Jobs captivity.
Restores him quickly to his former state,
And makes him happier, then he was of late.
For he of earthly means doth give him more,
By the one half, then he possess'd before.
Long time amongst thick clouds, begins to spread
His rays abroad, and shine as formerly,
The proud, insulting vapours by, and by
Dissolve themselves into a subtile air,
And now the Sun triumphant doth appear
In his full splendour, darting every where
His warming beams, and makes the Skys again,
After the storm, look pleasant, and serene.
So now th'Almighty having fully try'd
The worth of Job, and being satisfy'd
Of his deportment in his misery,
Dispels the clouds of his adversity,
And puts an end to Jobs captivity.
Restores him quickly to his former state,
And makes him happier, then he was of late.
For he of earthly means doth give him more,
By the one half, then he possess'd before.
11. Then came there unto him, all his brethren, and all his sisters, and all they that had been of his acquaintance before, and did eat bread with him in his house, and they bemoaned him, and comforted him over all the evil that the Lord had broght upon him; every man gave him a piece of money, and every one an ear-ring of gold.
We must suppose that Job return'd annon
To his own house, and in tranquility,
Bless't with firm health, and wealth, as formerly,
He liv'd, whilst all his scattered family,
Did by degrees return: that every where
He view'd his grounds; and daily did repair,
What by injurious times had been destroy'd,
And here, and there, his serving-men employ'd
In Ditching, Fencing, Planting, Labouring,
In Pits, and Quarries, Plowing, Harrowing,
Pasturing, Draining, and each other thing
That might recover the sad desolation
Of his affairs, by th'horrible vastation
Made there of late:
Not only by th'incursions of those,
Who liv'd on spoil, but even of such, God knows
Of his own friends, and unkind countrey-men,
Who thinking Job would ne're return again;
Upon his whole Estate had fairly seiz'd,
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All his Effects: thinking them now their own
By Right, since all his Race were dead, and gone,
And he a Beggar, countenanc'd by none.
At least they thought, if e're it should fall out
He should return again, beyond all doubt,
His Spirits would be so with Sorrows spent,
That he'd surrender for an Aliment,
During his life, all what they did possess,
And not adventure upon tedious Pleas
For the recovery of it, but in peace,
Desire to end the residue of his years,
And then they would be as it were his Heirs.
Therefore we may not without ground suppose
That seing God resolv'd to put a close
To all Jobs Woes, and Sorrows, and restore
This man ex postliminio, what before
His late Affliction to him did pertain
Was soon by him recovered again
From these Intruders, by a short complaint,
Exhibite to those in the Government,
Whose hearts now God had mov'd; unseal'd their eyes,
And let them see, what wrongs, and injuries
His Servant had even by their Laws sustain'd
Whilst poor, and friendless, under Bonds restrain'd,
Absent, and sick, not able to defend
His legal Title, and just Interest,
He was by formal chicanery oppress't.
And therefore now to make full expiation
For their Intrusions, and their malversation,
In countenancing such illegal deeds,
The Court on his Petition, proceeds
To a full restitution, and declares
All other Titles (save Job and his Heirs)
To that Estate to be now null, and void
Renvers'd, rescinded, cancell'd, and destroy'd.
Orders him full Possession again,
And finds in Law that those intruding men
Were violent Possessors, and ordain
These to make Compt, and Payment of what Rent
They had uplifted, during his Restraint,
As violently seiz'd, and fin'd beside
Those men in Costs, and Charges to be paid
To th'injur'd Party, for what Damnages
He had sustain'd:—
For so much some think humbly may be guess't
Without offence, from what is here express't,
That seing God himself did Job restore
To twice as much as he possess'd before;
Why might he not by way of Justice so
Have ordred things, as that he might bestow
Upon his faithful Servant the Estates
Of these, whom for their wickedness he hates.
Since that we know God is accustomed,
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Against the race of Sin, to overthrow
Them totally, and graciously bestow
Their Means on good men, in retalliation
Of what they suffer'd by these mens oppression.
And though the Gift the Damnage should exceed
By two parts more, yet that doth nothing plead
Against Gods Justice, since their sins do call
Aloud for extirpation general
Of them and all their Race: if then he may
By Justice take their whole Estates away
From them, and theirs, why may he not dispose
What is his own undoubtedly, to those
Who merit at his hands much better things,
As is the custom among earthly Kings
To gratify their Subjects Loyalty,
By Spoil, and Plunder of the Enemy.
But howsoe're it was, Jobs restauration
Is, truth, a most conspicuous demonstration
O'th' justice, greatness, goodness, equity,
And gratitude of him, who sits on high:
For if we ponder all his circumstances,
How in Prosperity he now advances;
And how, his Clouds of woes now dissipate,
His last is better then his first estate:
We'll find that God has only laid him low,
That when restor'd he might the better know
The real sweetness of Prosperity,
By his reflections on his Misery.
For those, who all their life-time live at ease,
And know no trouble, suffer no disease,
But waste their time in dull felicity,
Because they do not know it's contrary,
They do not know it self: since 'tis confess't
By all the knowing World that Contrares plac't
Beside each other make each other knowen,
Better then when considered alone.
For if a man shall first some Aloes taste
And then some Sugar: why he finds the last
Is sweeter far, when he reflects upon
The bitterness o'th' first, then if alone
He had the latter tasted: even so
When Job reflects how miserably low,
And scandalously poor he was of late
Which by reflection on his former state
Was much augmented; so he now esteems
His present happiness the more, yet seems
With so much moderation to bear
His restauration, as if yet he were
Upon the Dung-hill, and betwixt the two
Extremities of both Conditions, now
He lives like one, that his Condition knew.
Not elevat, when all his Kinred come
With joyful voice to bid him welcome home
His worthy Kindred! O his kind Relations,
Who formerly had in his sad occasions
Deserted him, and spoke of him, with hate,
Now come, by dozens, to congratulate
His happy Restitution.
Those who did from him in Affliction fly
Are now his stout friends in Prosperity.
By turns they feast him, striving who shall treat
A man, to whom they would not give of late
One Loaf of Bread: but O his great Estate!
His Means, and Honours now such figure make
As all of them do covet to partake
The happiness of his society
And wait upon him, with alacrity.
With Jewels, and Gold ear-rings they present him,
And with broad Silver Medalls complement him.
All his acquaintance too make now addresses
To him, and trouble him with fresh caresses,
And salutations in Prosperity,
Who did not mind him in Calamity.
For now—
His Friends, Acquaintance, Kinsmen, in a word,
All that e're knew him, seeing him restor'd
Do croud about him, every one denyes,
At least make fashion of Apologies,
For their unkindness, whilst he was of late
In a most sad, and despicable state:
But Job considering that those, who forsook him
When in Affliction, if again it took him,
Would do the like, did with great moderation,
Receive th'addresses of that Corporation:
Because he knew such Wardrobe-friends, as these
Were not for Storms, but for Festival days.
For he's the only friend, who men doth owne
In trouble: other friendship there is none;
And friendship's ne're, but in Affliction knowen.
Is, truth, a most conspicuous demonstration
O'th' justice, greatness, goodness, equity,
And gratitude of him, who sits on high:
For if we ponder all his circumstances,
How in Prosperity he now advances;
And how, his Clouds of woes now dissipate,
His last is better then his first estate:
We'll find that God has only laid him low,
That when restor'd he might the better know
The real sweetness of Prosperity,
By his reflections on his Misery.
For those, who all their life-time live at ease,
And know no trouble, suffer no disease,
But waste their time in dull felicity,
Because they do not know it's contrary,
They do not know it self: since 'tis confess't
By all the knowing World that Contrares plac't
Beside each other make each other knowen,
Better then when considered alone.
For if a man shall first some Aloes taste
And then some Sugar: why he finds the last
Is sweeter far, when he reflects upon
The bitterness o'th' first, then if alone
He had the latter tasted: even so
When Job reflects how miserably low,
And scandalously poor he was of late
Which by reflection on his former state
Was much augmented; so he now esteems
His present happiness the more, yet seems
With so much moderation to bear
His restauration, as if yet he were
Upon the Dung-hill, and betwixt the two
Extremities of both Conditions, now
He lives like one, that his Condition knew.
Not elevat, when all his Kinred come
With joyful voice to bid him welcome home
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Who formerly had in his sad occasions
Deserted him, and spoke of him, with hate,
Now come, by dozens, to congratulate
His happy Restitution.
Those who did from him in Affliction fly
Are now his stout friends in Prosperity.
By turns they feast him, striving who shall treat
A man, to whom they would not give of late
One Loaf of Bread: but O his great Estate!
His Means, and Honours now such figure make
As all of them do covet to partake
The happiness of his society
And wait upon him, with alacrity.
With Jewels, and Gold ear-rings they present him,
And with broad Silver Medalls complement him.
All his acquaintance too make now addresses
To him, and trouble him with fresh caresses,
And salutations in Prosperity,
Who did not mind him in Calamity.
For now—
His Friends, Acquaintance, Kinsmen, in a word,
All that e're knew him, seeing him restor'd
Do croud about him, every one denyes,
At least make fashion of Apologies,
For their unkindness, whilst he was of late
In a most sad, and despicable state:
But Job considering that those, who forsook him
When in Affliction, if again it took him,
Would do the like, did with great moderation,
Receive th'addresses of that Corporation:
Because he knew such Wardrobe-friends, as these
Were not for Storms, but for Festival days.
For he's the only friend, who men doth owne
In trouble: other friendship there is none;
And friendship's ne're, but in Affliction knowen.
Now after this so signal restauration,
Job us'd with so much grace, and moderation,
His new Prosperity, that God did bless
His labour daily, for he did increase
In Wealth, and Riches, and did now possess
Twice as much Means, and had a greater Store
By the one half, then that he had before.
Upon his Pasture Grounds he now did keep
A lusty Stock of fourteen thousand Sheep:
And so of Camels, Oxen, Shee-asses,
He now just twice the number did possess.
In Honours too, and Offices beside
No doubt he now was highly magnify'd:
So that the figure of his latter days
Appear'd more glorious then his former was.
Job us'd with so much grace, and moderation,
His new Prosperity, that God did bless
His labour daily, for he did increase
In Wealth, and Riches, and did now possess
Twice as much Means, and had a greater Store
By the one half, then that he had before.
Upon his Pasture Grounds he now did keep
A lusty Stock of fourteen thousand Sheep:
And so of Camels, Oxen, Shee-asses,
He now just twice the number did possess.
In Honours too, and Offices beside
No doubt he now was highly magnify'd:
So that the figure of his latter days
Appear'd more glorious then his former was.
But what do Wealth, and Honours signify
Without the prospect of Posterity?
And therefore that in all Job might be bless't
His hopeful Issue, with his Wealth increas't.
For now his Wife, who all this time had stray'd,
And had belike i'th' Country begg'd her Bread,
During her Husbands Misery; at last
Learning by publick Fame, what late had past
In his Affair, had to her former station
Return'd, and liv'd, in sweet association,
With her kind Husband: (for we do not read
That ever Job another Wife did wed)
By the same Wife then, as it here appears,
He had ten Children in his latter years:
Seven Males, three Females, and, as here related,
Never were Girls more beautiful created.
Without the prospect of Posterity?
And therefore that in all Job might be bless't
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For now his Wife, who all this time had stray'd,
And had belike i'th' Country begg'd her Bread,
During her Husbands Misery; at last
Learning by publick Fame, what late had past
In his Affair, had to her former station
Return'd, and liv'd, in sweet association,
With her kind Husband: (for we do not read
That ever Job another Wife did wed)
By the same Wife then, as it here appears,
He had ten Children in his latter years:
Seven Males, three Females, and, as here related,
Never were Girls more beautiful created.
Then were Jobs Daughters, so compleatly fair,
So brisque, so smooth, so sweet, and debonnair,
So amiable, of such comely features,
As both their names, and faces with their natures
Did fully suit: the eldest femima
He nam'd, 'cause of complexion bright, as day.
The second Kezia, which doth signify
One of an odorifick quality,
As sweet as Cassia: the third was knowen
By th'name of Keren-happuch, as to none
So brisque, so smooth, so sweet, and debonnair,
So amiable, of such comely features,
As both their names, and faces with their natures
Did fully suit: the eldest femima
He nam'd, 'cause of complexion bright, as day.
The second Kezia, which doth signify
One of an odorifick quality,
As sweet as Cassia: the third was knowen
By th'name of Keren-happuch, as to none
Inferiour in beauty: these Co-heirs,
With their seven Brethren, as by the Text appears
Were institute, and without all debate,
By equal parts their Fathers great Estate
They did possess, living in unity
Amongst themselves, as if one Family:
Free of Law-Suits, each with their Dividend
Did live content: none of 'em did contend
For th'right of Primogeniture, or claim'd
More then their Father t'each of them had nam'd.
With their seven Brethren, as by the Text appears
Were institute, and without all debate,
By equal parts their Fathers great Estate
They did possess, living in unity
Amongst themselves, as if one Family:
Free of Law-Suits, each with their Dividend
Did live content: none of 'em did contend
For th'right of Primogeniture, or claim'd
More then their Father t'each of them had nam'd.
And now, to crown this good mans Happiness
Full sevenscore years in Honour, Wealth, and Peace,
Job after this did live, and fairly see
His Childrens Children to the fourth Degree.
Full sevenscore years in Honour, Wealth, and Peace,
Job after this did live, and fairly see
His Childrens Children to the fourth Degree.
At length, as all the Race of Mortals must
When Time is spent, return again to Dust:
So Job, whom God with both Estates had try'd,
Old, full of happy days, and blessings dy'd.
When Time is spent, return again to Dust:
So Job, whom God with both Estates had try'd,
Old, full of happy days, and blessings dy'd.
O so let all with Sorrows now oppress't
In thy good Time obtain Eternal Rest:
Let all afflicted trust in thee alone
Great God, besides thee comfort there is none.
Let no man in his Sufferings repine,
For both Lifes-Sorrows, and Delights are thine,
Which to each Mortal, Lord, thou dost dispense
As thou thinks't good; O let Jobs Patience
Be a grand Copy, which, in my sad state,
My anxious Soul may strive to imitate.
That pious thoughts each hour may lenifie
The Paroxisms of my Adversity.
In thy good Time obtain Eternal Rest:
Let all afflicted trust in thee alone
Great God, besides thee comfort there is none.
Let no man in his Sufferings repine,
For both Lifes-Sorrows, and Delights are thine,
Which to each Mortal, Lord, thou dost dispense
As thou thinks't good; O let Jobs Patience
Be a grand Copy, which, in my sad state,
My anxious Soul may strive to imitate.
That pious thoughts each hour may lenifie
The Paroxisms of my Adversity.
| The grand Tryal | |