The History of Job :: :: University of Virginia Library

The History of Job

A Sacred Poem. In Five Books. By Daniel Baker

Baker, Daniel (1653 or 4-1723)

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THE History of Job:

A Sacred POEM.

The First BOOK.

You that at ev'ry trifling Cross repine,
And tax the Ways of Providence Divine;
You that to ev'ry soft Temptation yield,
And leave your Captain in the doubtful Field;
Weak Souls, unable to resist the Charms
Of the fond World, or stand her rude Alarms;
Whom Wealth and Want do equally destroy,
By ev'ry Grief undone, and ev'ry Joy:
Come, and behold a valiant Hero, whom
Nor Fortune's Smiles, nor Frowns could overcome.

'Gainst whom the Infernal Pow'rs in vain conspir'd,
Who all their Wit, and all their Malice tir'd.
Who their united Force did singly bear,
And made them all forsake th' unequal War.
Devout and humble, when with Plenty blest,
Erect and Chearful, when with Want opprest.
He neither, being Full, deny'd his GOD,
Nor basely curs'd Him, when beneath the Rod.
He thankfully receiv'd what Heav'n bestow'd,
And own'd the Fountain whence his Blessings flow'd:
And, when bereav'd of all, submitted still
His own, tho' cross'd, to the High Sovereign's Will;
And in his deepest Griefs confest, that Heav'n
Might justly take what it before had giv'n.

O GOD, Thou great Exemplar of all Good,
Who hast redeem'd us by thy precious Blood,
Thy Death, a Martyrdom and Sacrifice
Seal'd thy Eternal Truth, and paid the Price
Of our Inheritance in the Realms above,
The joyful Realms of Poetry and Love.
Thy Sacred Spirit did this thy Champion crown,
With wond'rous Grace, and Patience next Thine own.

Thou led'st him on with Courage to the War,
And brought'st him off more than a Conquerour.
O fill thy Servant's Breast with Heat Divine,
That I may sound thy Praise, and ev'ry Line
May Virtue teach, and bring Men to conclude
That Piety true Wisdom is, and Patience Fortitude.

In Idumea's fair and fruitful Land,
There dwelt a Prince, on whom the lib'ral Hand
Of Heav'n its Blessings had profusely thrown:
So Great, so Good in all the East was none.
Alike for Wealth and Piety renown'd,
With Peace encompass'd, and with Glory crown'd.
Religious was his Mind, and bright his Fame;
His Name was Job, illustrious Job, a Name
By Angels lov'd, by good Men gladly heard,
And ev'n the Bad its awful Sound rever'd.

Sev'n thousand Sheep he kept upon his Ground,
For Fleece and Lamb the like not to be found.
Three thousand Camels in his Pastures feed,
Besides five hundred Asses kept for breed.
His House a Swarm of lusty Slaves contain'd,
And twice five hundred Oxen till'd his Land,

Unmeasur'd Heaps of Grain his Chambers load,
And some he sold, and freely some bestow'd.
Great were his Gains, and his strong Chests did hold
Store of rich Garments, and large Sums of Gold.

To heir this vast Estate, the Hand of Heav'n
Sev'n Sons, a Troop of goodly Youths, had giv'n.
With them, three Daughters, blest Arabia's Pride,
So Rich, so Fair, so Vertuous none beside.
When from their Father's to their Brother's Tent,
Attended with a noble Train, they went,
The young Arabian Lords about them swarm'd,
Their Beauty much, but more their Fortune charm'd.

Yet could not all this mighty Wealth divert
His Mind from GOD: He still possest his Heart.
Religion was the Wheel his Soul did move,
And Heav'n the only Object of his Love.
Vice he abhorr'd, nor would commit a Sin,
The World, and all its shining Pomp to win.
The Fear of God, and Virtue's noble Fire
With such brave Resolutions did inspire
His Breast, and ev'ry Corner of it fill,
They left no Room for any thing that's ill.

The Work of Pray'r he never would omit,
Consid'ring well that Humane Strength and Wit
Without th' Almighty's Aid will nought avail;
But, lean'd upon, the weak Supporters fail.
His precious Time he wisely did Divide,
To Business part, and part to Sleep apply'd;
Some to his Friends, and some to GOD he gave,
Who still, whatever fail'd, was sure to have
His Portion: For the Saint in all Affairs
Less trusted to his Wisdom, than his Pray'rs.

And when his Sons and Daughters held a Feast,
(Such was the Custom of the jocund East)
Indulging Wine, and Musick's soft Delights,
A thing that oft to Sinful Mirth invites,
Good Job (Paternal Care so fill'd his Breast,
It suffer'd him to take no longer Rest)
Up with the Sun arose, and Pray'rs made,
And whole-burnt Offerings on GOD's Altar laid;
Imploring Sov'reign Mercy to remit
The Sins and Follies of their youthful Heat.

Thus piously the Hero spent his Days,
And his chief Business was his Maker's Praise.

Next that, the Welfare of Mankind he sought,
And wond'rous things with Zeal & Courage wrought.
Impartial Justice on the Bench he dealt,
And none his Wrath, but harden'd Sinners, felt.
He spar'd no Cost nor Labour in Defence
Of helpless Right, and injur'd Innocence.
How many Widows, snatch'd from out the Jaws
Of proud Oppressors, gave him loud Applause?
How many Orphans, rescu'd, when beguil'd
By unjust Guardians, him their Father styl'd?
So fit for Bus'ness his capacious Mind
Appear'd, to worthy Deeds so much inclin'd,
That all around he Plenty sow'd, and Peace;
And reap'd of Thanks and Praise a large Increase.

Long time he flourish'd thus, until at last
The Prince of Hell as thro' the World he pass'd
To seek his Prey, his Eyes upon him cast.
Envy and Malice swell'd his painful Breast,
And dire Revenge his lab'ring Thoughts possest.

What! Shall I suffer this? Shall I (says he)
Endure a Man made Rich, and not by Me?

The Realms above let my proud Foe possess,
And draw on Fools with Dreams of future Bliss:
The present World is mine. 'Tis I that pay
My faithful Votaries without Delay,
Nor put them off, like him, t'along uncertain Day.
If Gold, my Gift, shall be by Him bestow'd,
All Men will leave my Service, and be Good.
My Altars will grow cold, my Sov'reign Pow'r
Contemn'd, and Satan few or none adore.
But I'll prevent it; Job, thou soon shalt see
Thy luckless Choice, in serving Him, not me.

This said, his fi'ry Eyes about he threw,
And from his vengeful Mouth vain Curses flew.
But that was all: He durst not nearer press,
Nor touch the Saint, whom Heav'n's high Hand did bless.
Strong Providence, and GOD's resistless Arm
(A sure Protection) kept him safe from Harm.
Angelick Guards themselves around him plac'd,
And faithful Pray'rs far off the Tyrant chas'd.

And as a Wolf, with Hunger pinch'd, beholds
The Flocks securely resting in their Folds,

Around he walks, and strives now here, now there
To rush upon them, but his slavish Fear
Still keeps him back: The Shepherd's watchful Eye
Secures his Charge, and puts the Danger by.
Away at last he sneaks. Grief frets him more
Thus to be baulk'd, than Hunger did before.
So Satan rag'd, and in his troubled Thought
Mixt Fear and Fury strange Convulsions wrought.

Then thus to himself, O my accursed Fate!
Must I behold him prosper, whom I hate?
His partial Friend, my rival Foe, could call
Th' imprison'd Mass of Waters up, and all
The airy Stores dissolve, and Vengeance take
On a whole World, that his hard Laws did break.
And, when provok'd, in his fantastick Ire
Could drown five Cities in a Flood of Fire.
But I, who thought my self as great as He
E'rewhile, contending for the Sov'reignty,
Am now grown weak, and (Oh!) so much a Slave,
I can't destroy one Man, without his Leave.
Well then, for once, I'll force my self to own
His Pow'r, and humbly to approach his Throne,

And by wise Slanders urge him to remand
Th' Angelick Troops that thick about him stand.
Then if his Innocence he still retain,
Or Fortune faithful to him yet remain,
Let me my Kingdom lose on Earth, and dwell
Confin'd for ever to the deepest Hell.
Thus spake the Fiend:
Nor waited long, before his restless Mind
A fitting Opportunity did find,
For the black Plot his Malice had design'd.

A Council now th' Almighty calls, and all
The Sons of GOD obey their Father's Call.
Millions of Angels stand around the Throne,
Which with excessive Light, and profuse Glory shone.
The Sun, whose Beams intolerably bright
Surprize and over-whelm our tim'rous Sight,
Meer Darkness is, compar'd to that Orig'nal Light.

But hold, my Muse, thy trembling Pen submit:
This Subject far transcends thy mortal Wit.
Had'st thou a thousand Tongues, and all inspir'd
With that mysterious Flame, whose Virtue fir'd

The Chosen Twelve, on Pentecost's high Feast,
This glorious Scene could never be exprest.
Much sooner may'st thou in thy hollow Hand
Contain the Sea, and number all the Sand,
Than once describe what Angels still adore
With Faces vail'd, and feel for evermore
Fresh Transports, and new Objects find t'employ
Their ravish'd Souls to all Eternity.

Amidst the Crowds, that fill'd the sacred Place,
Th' Arch-Rebel comes. How durst he shew his Face
In those blest Courts, from which long since he fell?
How came he thither, unobserv'd, from Hell?
His own black Form the Fiend puts off awhile,
And borrows one, the better to beguile
The Guards, that kept the Gates of Heav'n, and come,
As one returning from a Journey, home.
All like a Seraph drest, his Looks so bright,
So well disguis'd in Robes of pilfer'd Light,
Well might he cheat the sharpest Angel's Sight,
But not th' Almighty's Eye.
He soon espy'd him, 'midst the Throng, and found
The Foe had ventur'd on forbidden Ground.

And thus begins: Audacious Satan, how
Brok'st thou in hither, and whence com'st thou now?
He boldly answer'd, I have rambling been
Around the Earth, and got in here unseen.
The Earth is free; and sure (tho' banish'd hence)
There I may take my Walks without Offence.

In all thy Travels (then th' Almighty said)
Hast thou my faithful Servant Job survey'd?
In all the World hast thou his Equal found
For Grace, and Piety so much renown'd?

Yes, I observ'd him (Satan makes reply)
But don't at all admire his Piety.
Well may he pass for Righteous, and be still
Thought good, who ne'er was tempted to be ill.
Him above all Men living thou hast blest,
And with thy Service joyn'd his Interest.
His Substance thrives, and thou hast fenc'd him round,
With Peace and Safety, and his Temples crown'd
With growing Fame. No wonder then that he
So highly seems to love and honour Thee.
But now put forth thine Hand, and from him take
What Thou hast given: Call thy Blessings back.

Do this, and satisfy'd thou soon wilt be
'Tis all Pretence, and meet Hypocrisy.
He'l soon rebel, and, destitute of Grace,
Revile and Curse Thee to thy very Face.

False Wretch, (th' Almighty then in Anger spoke)
Does Wealth, or Want, to greater Ills provoke?
Ambition, Sloth, Rebellion, Luxury,
(Black Crimes from which my Servant Job is free)
Are the too nat'ral Fruits of Plenty, where
The Sov'reign Sway Religion does not bear.
Yet to convince thee, Lo! I now recall
My high Protection from his House, and all
The Sacred Guards around him I disband,
Disarm'd and naked, Lo! into thy Hand
I give him up. But this I charge thee, be
His Person safe, and from thy Malice free.

This Licence granted, straight the Fiend withdrew
From the bright Throne, and down to Earth he flew.
The Wretch, since Adam's Ruin, never had
A Face so chearful, nor a Heart so glad.
Of certain Victory he made no doubt,
Too soon triumphing, e'er the Battel fought.

Forthwith four Spirits he conjures up, and they
Their Master's Call with readiness obey.
Four finish'd Dev'ls, admir'd for Strength and Wit,
Alike for Counsel and for Action fit,
Great Masters both in Camp and Cabinet.
Whate'er was forging, these were in the Club:
Their Names, Abaddon, Belial, Beelzebub,
Moloch the fourth. All Lords of high Renown,
The main Supports of his Infernal Throne.
When for the Sov'reign Place in Heav'n he fought,
Advice and Aid from These he always sought.
And, when defeated, down with him they fell,
That Post of Honour still they kept in Hell.
All weighty Matters, and Intrigues of State
With them he thought it Wisdom to debate.
When War and Desolation was design'd,
More proper for that Work he none could find;
None readier to obey his barb'rous Will:
Their Hands, as well as Heads, were made for Ill.

High on his Throne the gloomy Tyrant sate,
And thus begins, while they attentive wait.

My Faithful Friends and Partners in the Fame
Of those great Actions, which have rais'd our Name
Already far above the Skies, attend
While one high Labour more I recommend.
A Man I hate here in Arabia lives,
Who both by Counsel and Example strives
To draw Men from our Service, to obey
Our mighty Foe, 'gainst whom we did display
Our warlike Banners once, and almost won the Day.
This Man the Tyrant favours, being one
Who for his Altars mighty Zeal has shown.
And, blinded by his thriving, happy Fate,
Him all begin t'admire and imitate.
If this be suffer'd, all Men will forsake
Our Party, and with Heav'n new Friendship make:
Our Int'rest will decline, and we be driv'n
E'erlong from off the Earth, as now from Heav'n.
Go forth, your utmost Skill and Malice show,
And make him curse the Hand, he blesses now.
Set on Sabean Thieves, and next command
The fierce Chaldean Troops t'invade the Land.
Call Fire from Heav'n, and burn his Substance up,
And make his Servants tast Death's bitter Cup.

Wild Whirlwinds muster, lay his Houses low,
And let his Children fall by one effectual Blow.

He spoke. His Words they ponder'd in their Breast,
Till Moloch bow'd, and answer'd for the rest.

Your Part, great Monarch, is Commands to lay,
And Ours, with all Submission to obey.
Tho' Heav'n we lost, yet by your Pow'r we gain
New Empires here, and o'er fall'n Mankind reign.
Here we as GODS are worship'd, and enjoy
Honours Divine, and due to the Most-High.
Temples and Priests are for our Service made,
And fat Burnt-Off'rings on our Altars laid.
To your strong Arms, and matchless Policy
We're all oblig'd, but none so much as I,
To whom the noblest Province you have given,
And almost equal to the Joys of Heav'n,
To be with humane Sacrifice appeas'd:
More who can wish for, or be better pleas'd?
To whom a grateful Homage Parents pay,
Their Children's Souls, and feast me every Day
With rosted Infant's Flesh, (a luscious Food)
And make me drunk with Bowls of Virgin-Blood.

The other Parts my Brethren may perform:
The last I choose to raise a furious Storm,
And kill his Children. 'Tis a noble Joy,
And worthy of great Moloch to destroy
The Life of Innocents. To pleasure you
In this, is both Delight and Duty too.

This said, the Task they gladly undertake,
And all most earnest Preparation make,
Each, with more Malice, to perform his Part:
Dire Emulation so inflam'd their Heart.

Mean while GOD's Servant, void of Guilt and Fear,
Liv'd unconcern'd, nor thought of Danger near.
When, Lo! (Behold how vain the best Estate
Of Mortals is, how changeable their Fate!)
A frighted Servant all in hast comes in,
And thus, all drown'd in Tears, he does begin.

Sad Tidings, Sir, I bring; for even now
The whilst your Men and Oxen were at Plow
In yonder Field, and in a Meadow near
Securely feeding all your Asses were
(The Thought still makes me shrink) a lawless Crew
Of strong Sabean Robbers on them flew.

The Oxen they unyok'd and drove away,
And made the Asses too an easy Prey.
Alas! what could unarmed Servants do
(Yet what they could, they did) against a Foe
So numerous? On Heaps they slaughter'd fell,
And I escap'd alone, the News to tell.

Scarce had he spoke, when Lo! ('tis seldom known)
That one Affliction ventures out alone,
They come in Troops, and press, like Waves, each other on.
Another Servant comes, whose ghastly Look
Portends some mighty ill, and thus he spoke.

Your Flocks were feeding on the flow'ry Plains,
And singing by them sate the chearful Swains.
When, Lo! with threat'ning Clouds the Sky grew black,
Which op'ning widely, with a dreadful Crack,
From their dark Wombs discharg'd a deadly Show'r
Of pointed Flames, which did at once devour
Both Sheep and Shepherds. All together fell,
And I escap'd alone, the News to tell.

He scarce had done, when from the Field a Third,
Upon whose Face a deep Concern appear'd,

Comes home, so spent with hast, and pale with Fear,
Scarce could his falt'ring Tongue these Words declare:

The fierce Chaldeans three strong Bodies form'd,
And all well-mounted, all compleatly arm'd
Came marching up, and, Lo! while one held back
To watch th' Event, the other two attack
Our well-fenc'd Grounds, threw down the Gates, and drove
The Camels off. In vain the Servants strove
To guard their Charge: Alas! they out-number'd fell,
And I escap'd alone, the News to tell.

Scarce had he finish'd, when, with Grief opprest,
A fourth brings sadder Tidings than the rest.
Half dead with Fear, and drown'd in flowing Tears,
His dreadful Message in his Face appears,
Nor need he speak, to tell what News he bears.

Why was I left alive (says he) t'impart
Such killing News, and break my Master's Heart?
Your Sons and Daughters met, invited all
T'a Banquet in their eldest Brother's Hall.
With rich Varieties the Board was crown'd,
The Musick play'd, and Healths were going round,

When (see the sudden Turns of Fate, and how
Surprizing Griefs secure Delights pursue!)
A furious Whirlwind from the Desart Land
Came driving o'er, and nothing could withstand
Its Pow'r; tall Oaks up from the Ground it tore,
Where many Ages they had stood before,
And thro' the Air their wond'ring Bodies bore
Against the House, as if for that intent
Alone, and for no other Mischief sent,
It bent its utmost Force, and buried all,
Sons, Daughters, Servants in one Funeral.
Not one escap'd, so suddenly it fell,
But I, unhappy I, the dismal News to tell.

The former Strokes good Job unmoved took,
He neither spake a Word, nor chang'd his Look:
But now he rises from his Seat, as if
He'd met at last a Subject worth his Grief.
His Princely Robe he from his Shoulders tore,
And in its Room a Shirt of Sack-cloth wore.
He shaves his Head, and bares his rev'rend Crown,
And on the Pavement casts his Body down.
There prostrate, to his GOD the Hero pay'd
Devout Addresses, and thus humbly said:

Naked from out my Mother's hapless Womb
I came, and shall go naked to the Tomb.
Such mine, such ev'ry sinful Mortal's Birth:
And such we must return t'our common Mother, Earth.
Whilst here we live, some Great, and some are Small,
Some Rich, and others Poor we fondly call:
But no such nice Distinctions do attend
On our Beginning, or our latter End.
In different Channels here we run; but all
Rise from one Spring, into one Ocean fall.
We nothing brought into this World, nor may
Expect to carry ought from hence away.

O GOD, Thou stable Good, Eternal King,
Whose Word did frame, and governs ev'ry thing,
Against thy Hand, which orders all things well,
'Tis impious and ingrateful to rebel:
Whatever Blessings I enjoy'd, from Thee
They came, thy Bounty lent them all to me.
They were not mine, but Thine; and Thou hast done
No wrong at all in taking back thine own.

Lo! Prostrate on the Ground, in deep Distress
Thy Wisdom, Truth, and Justice I confess,
And with a Soul resign'd thy glorious Name I bless.

Thus spake the Saint. Thus all Hell's Methods prove
Unable his Religious Mind to move.
This Satan saw, with Grief and Envy vext
Thus to be baffled; and in Mind perplext
What surer Course to take, how to repair
His shatter'd Forces, and renew the War,
The Fiend retires, projecting to regain
This Loss of Honour, at the next Campaign.

So a firm Rock, amidst the Ocean, braves
The Fury of the Wind and angry Waves.
In vain That blows, in vain These beat, in vain
They both conspire to plunge him in the Main.
Unmov'd he stands, till, having spent their Strength,
Th' unequal Combat they give o'er at length.
Back to his Caves the Wind, retreating, flies,
There rests to get new Breath and fresh Supplies.
The Waves, deserted thus, insult no more,
But fall, with Shame retiring to the Shore.

Prov. 30. 9.

Gen. 7. 11, 12.

Gen. 19. 24.

Acts 2. 3.

1 Tim. 6. 7.

The Second BOOK.

Again th' Almighty mounts his lofty Throne,
And on his Right Hand sate th' Eternal Son.
The Royal Writs were issued out, to call
Th' Angelick Orders to the Council-Hall.
Forthwith they all obey his high Command,
And from each Province of his spacious Land
The chosen Representatives resort,
And in full Numbers crowd the shining Court.
High Matters, which concern'd their Heav'nly State
Th' August Assembly met there to debate:

But what the Sacred Pages don't express
My humble Muse will not presume to guess.
She thankfully receives what GOD reveals,
And chooses not to know what He conceals.
Heav'ns Sacred Laws and Politicks Divine
She touches not, nor ventures to define
Deep Myst'ries that her mortal Wit transcend,
But silently adores what she can't comprehend.

Amidst the Sacred Senate, thus conven'd
Their mighty Master's Pleasure to attend,
Bold Satan ventures to intrude again,
And slily mingles with the happy Train.
Yet the Almighty 'spy'd him all the while,
And thus upbraids him with a scornful Smile.

Well, Satan, thou hast gain'd the Conquest: See
How plainly Job blasphemes and curses me.
I yielded up my Servant to thy Pow'r,
Without just Cause to be afflicted sore.
Nor hast thou spar'd, but to the full Extent
Of its Commission thy dire Malice went.

Yet still his Pious Temper he maintains;
His matchless Patience yet unmov'd remains,
And o'er thy feeble Rage triumphant reigns.

Thus GOD: And thus GOD's Enemy reply'd,
Yet still he lives, and still he does abide
In perfect Health: For which a Man would sell
All that he has, and think it purchas'd well.
'Tis all without him what he suffers yet:
My strict Commission would no more permit.
He feels no Smart; and that would move him more
Than all the Losses he sustain'd before.

Thus spake the Traytor, and that Piety,
Which made him tremble, thus he did bely.
And GOD, who saw how his false Bosom burn'd
With eager Thirst of Vengeance, thus return'd:

Thou might'st, if Malice had not made Thee Blind,
In thy late ill Success thy future find:
But since thy rash Presumption urges still
For further Leave to tempt, once more I will
Indulge thy Wish. Go, tyrannize it o'er
His Person, as thou didst his Goods before.

But spare his precious Life: Press not in vain
For That; for That thou never shalt obtain.

Th' Almighty spoke, and with an awful Frown
Sent the bold Fiend, half glad, half angry down.
Glad of new Pow'r obtain'd, but angry still
To have it bridled by another's Will.
He thought a perfect Devil should enjoy
A Plenitude of Power to destroy;
A Pow'r unbounded, as his endless Spite,
And, like the Divine Goodness, infinite.
But since he feels (tho' loath) his Rage restrain'd,
And, like a furious Bandog, strongly chain'd,
He adds no more, but leaves the hateful Skies,
And, cursing all that dwell there, down he flies.
And in his Passage sweeps the misty Air,
And gathers all the Surfeits scatter'd there,
Malignant Damps, and Pestilential Steams,
Drawn by some guilty Planet's lowring Beams,
From putrid Carnage, Subterraneous Dens,
And noxious Herbs that grow in Bogs and Fens,
A rich Variety of Plagues, to none
But him, and Witches, his apt Scholars, known.

Whatever Earth, Air, Water could impart
Of Ill, he takes, and works, by Rules of Art,
Into a Mixture, able to bereave
Whole Towns of People, should GOD give him leave.

This done, his Way to Job the Tyrant made,
And as he drank, into his Cup convey'd
The baneful Dose, unseen.
Forthwith the Poyson mingles with his Blood,
And into Flames converts the vital Flood.
The great Physician's Care his Heart did fence,
And by strong Cordials kept the Venom thence:
Not so the other Parts. For they bereft
Of heav'nly Succours, and to Satan left,
Felt the dire Juice's Rage, which outward flew,
And on his Skin of Boyls and Blisters grew
A horrid Crop. No rank, new broke-up Field
A more luxuriant Harvest e'er did yield.
No Place was free from Head to Foot; all o'er
It spread, and stretch'd its Conquests more & more,
Till his whole Body was but one great Sore.
The angry Virus slides along his Veins,
And fills him with intolerable Pains.

His loathsome Pushes the Spectators fright,
And they that lov'd him once, now shun his Sight.
His Friends first look, then start, and turn away:
His meanest Servants prove as nice as they,
And when their Master calls, refuse t'obey.
They all forsake him: Ev'n his dearest Wife,
(Once the Delight and Comfort of his Life)
Now leaves him in Distresses worse than Death;
The dainty Dame can't brook her Husband's Breath,
No Aid nor Pity his Complaints procure:
Nay, ev'n Himself can scarce Himself endure.
Deserted thus on the cold Ground he lies,
And counts the tedious Moments by his Sighs.
A broken Potsherd all his Ease, with which
He scrapes his Flesh, to quench the flaming Itch.
While Day remains, he longs for Night, and then
His restless Sorrows call for Day again.
For when kind Slumbers would awhile refresh
His fainting Spir'ts, and ease his tortur'd Flesh,
The Foe takes ev'n this small Relief away,
And makes the Night uneasy, as the Day.
Then fearful Dreams disturb his burning Head,
And ugly Visions stalk around his Bed.

Pale, angry Ghosts, and ev'ry antick Spright,
That loves to sport and revel in the Night,
Then haunt, and pull, and suffer him to take
As little Rest asleep, as when awake.

Thus lay the Saint beneath the painful Rod,
Yet still he lov'd, and still he prais'd his GOD.
Resolv'd to walk by Faith, and not by Sight,
He bravely triumph'd o'er Hell's useless Spight,
And bow'd with easy Self-denial still
His Sense and Reason to th' Almighty's Will;
Nor was his Tongue once heard to utter ought
That argu'd in his Mind the least rebellious Thought.

And now the Prince of Hell impatient grown
To see his well-built Project overthrown,
Began to fume and rage (as when he fell
By conqu'ring Angels bound and sent to Hell)
But quickly recollected, down he sate,
And with himself did thus deliberate.

Have I for this my self a Suppliant made
To long-neglected Heav'n, and meanly pray'd
Only for Leave to shew how soon the Pride
And Pow'r of Satan may be mortify'd?

Now I believe (I never did till now,
But thought my self too great for such a Blow)
What long ago in Heav'n, when there among
The fawning Crew I dwelt, and with them bow'd and sung,
In ancient Records I have sometime read,
The Woman's Seed shall bruise the Serpent's Head.
'Tis doubtless but too true; I must submit,
I find I must: But sure I need not yet.
The Woman's Seed! What may this Riddle be?
There lies some Myst'ry in't too deep for me
To sound: But Job, methinks, should not be He.
Job may be conquer'd; yes, he may, and shall:
I'll never leave him, till I see him fall.
Nay let this wond'rous Seed come when he will,
I'll meet him in the Field, and try his Skill:
Mean while I'll practice on his Friend, and grow
Still more expert t'engage the mighty Foe.
On my great Name 'twill leave a lasting Brand,
Not to accomplish what I take in Hand.
But first I'll take Advice: The Cause will need
A full Debate, e'er further we proceed.

Job, thou hast foyl'd me twice; but mark it well,
My third attack thou never shalt repell,
If either Wit or Pow'r remain in Hell.

Thus with a threat'ning Brow. Then takes his flight
Down to the Realms of everlasting Night,
The Palace where he reigns with Horrour crown'd,
And deck'd with dismal Majesty around.
Thither arriv'd the Prince without delay
Summons his trusty Counsellers; and they
No sooner hear the News, but post away.
Fom ev'ry Side the gloomy States-men come,
And at the Day appointed fill the Room.

To whom the Sultan thus, Grave Senators,
Illustrious Peers, and Sage, Nocturnal Pow'rs,
Since down from Heav'n, impatient to endure
Th' unequal Yoke of Arbitrary Pow'r,
We cast our selves, and rather chose to reign
Below, than serve above: With brave Disdain
Inflam'd, so high our just Resentments ran,
Since then our Work has been to ruin Man,
GOD's Darling Man, created to supply
The Seats we left, and fill th' unpeopled Sky.

Nor has Success been wanting: Our high Place
May still be void, for all this upstart Race
Of Earth-born Worms. Our reaching Arts have won
The greater Part. The Rich we have undone
By tempting them to Avarice and Pride,
Oppression, and a thousand Ills beside.
Nor have the Poor escap'd the Stratagem:
Impatience, Envy, Murm'ring ruines them.
Their Souls to Lust the Strong and Heathful yield:
Our Champion Lust has its Ten Thousands kill'd.
With Pains and Sickness others we assail,
And then provoke them to repine and rail,
And curse the Hand of Providence, as if
That were the only Cause of all their Grief.
But Job (Oh hateful Name!) derides our Pain:
On him we practise all our Arts in vain.
The senseless Bigot neither Want nor Wealth
Can move: He's one in Sickness and in Health.
Impov'rish'd, robb'd, his Body cover'd o'er
With noysom Boyls, and many a painful Sore,
His old, religious Mind he still retains,
And meekly worships GOD amidst his Pains.

Still loves Him, and with blister'd Tongue does sing
Blessed be GOD, my Father, and my King,
This can we suffer? No: We never can,
If we be Angels still, and He but Man.
Where are our Souls? Where that brave Ardor sled,
When our bold Troops 'gainst the bright Throne we led,
And charg'd, like valiant Gen'rals, at their Head?
Th' Almighty scarce could rout us then: And now
Shall we before a wretched Mortal bow?
I know you scorn such Meanness.
Then give Advice, how Vict'ry may be gain'd,
And let Hell's Honour, by your Care maintain'd,
Be still, as hitherto, preserv'd unstain'd.

He spoke. They on each other cast their Eyes,
Expecting who should give their Lord Advice
In this Affair; when from amidst the Crowd
Lord Belial rose, and reverently bow'd.

Let not your Wrath, Great Prince, unruly grow
Against this stupid Wretch: We'll make him know
Our strong Temptations cannot be withstood;
And he shall yet blaspheme and curse his GOD.

His stubborn Patience we'll to Rage convert:
Horror and black Despair shall seize his Heart,
And in fierce Anger Heav'n and he shall part.
The Means are obvious, and have often done
Great Feats, and everlasting Honour won.
Have you forgotten, Sir, (I'm sure you ha'n't,
'Twas such a glorious Act, I'm sure you can't)
How the First Man was tempted and undone?
'Twas by his Wife: And Job has such a one.
I know her well: Of Pagan Parents born,
She gladly to our Altars would return,
And in her Heart does Job's Religion scorn.
But, like a proud and impious Tyrant, He
Denies her Consc'ence native Liberty,
His unjust Laws compels her to fulfil,
And makes her serve his GOD against her Will.
Nay, though sometimes she condescends to join,
Upon Occasion, with him in Divine
And sacred Acts, this will not please; but he
Exacts a constant, full Conformity

Her Sex's Dow'r she wants not, Envy, Pride,
Revenge, and Forty glorious Names beside.

Lustful and Covetous, she hates her Lord
Now Poor and Sick, nor able to afford
What would content her, and she longs to be
From such an inconvenient Marr'age free.
A choicer Instrument we cannot find:
For such a Work as this, she seems design'd,
And made, like Eve, to ruin Humankind.
Sir, with your Leave, I'll go, and set her on,
And let her finish what we have begun.
A few Instructions will suffice: For she
Already is almost as wise as We.

He scarce had done, when overcome with Joy,
The Prince of Devils made this quick Reply.

My Blessing on Thee, dear and precious Friend,
And may Success thy Sage Advice attend.
Nor do I doubt it. Oh that I had now
More Friends, as faithful and as wise as Thou!
Our good old Cause might be reviv'd again,
And our lost Empire we might yet obtain.
Oh that the Sov'reign Seat in Heav'n were mine!
Next to my self in Glory thou should'st shine:
Great Michael's Place, dear Belial, should be Thine.

This said, in hast he from the Throne descends,
To kiss the Mouth on which his Hope depends:
Applauding Murmurs through th' Assembly ran,
And Satan, highly pleas'd, dissolv'd the dark Divan.

No sooner was the joyful Court adjourn'd,
But Belial, in whose eager Stomach burn'd
A strong desire, Revenge on Job to take,
Did for his Journey Preparation make.
Through all the doleful Provinces of Hell,
Where guilty Souls in easeless Torments dwell,
Through the wide Gulph of Subterranean Waves,
Thro' those rude Realms, and hollow, sounding Caves,
Where infant Storms with Tenderness are nurs'd,
And Whirlwinds try their mad Vagaries first.
Till stronger grown, the Prison-walls they break,
And thro' the Air their frantick Rambles take:
Through these without delay he swiftly pass'd,
And to those plent'ous Regions came at last,
That with Metallick Stores are always big,
Where Men do Gold and Grief together dig.
Here stays awhile to visit in his way
Lord Mammon, whom those wealthy Realms obey.

He to the late Assembly did not come,
By Bus'ness of Importance kept at home.
At other times the Court he seldom miss'd,
But at Cabals did constantly assist.
On his Advice the State did much rely,
His Int'rest great, and great his Policy.
None serv'd the Prince, or carry'd on his Cause
With greater Zeal than he, or more Applause.
Him Satan lov'd, and highly did prefer,
Made him his Minion, and Lord Treasurer.
In which high Post, so thriving was his Fate,
He bought the Golden Mines, a vast Estate.
And there he reigns a proud and potent Lord;
Scarce Satan's self more honour'd and ador'd.
His Favour Princes seek, and to his Court
Their emulous Ambassadors resort.
A Throng of Suitors at his Gate attends,
And they are happ'est whom he most befriends.
For here bright Gold, that dazling Idol grows
(Lord Mammon's Royalty) which he on those
That serve him best, the worst of Men, bestows.
With equal Art and Pains 'tis here refin'd
By brawny Giants of the Cyclop's kind.

The Prince to each by Lot their Task assigns,
The shining Ore some dig from wealthy Mines.
Some from the Dross the purer Substance purge,
Some labour at the Bellows, some the Forge.
Some form the pond'rous Ingots, others slake
The flaming Wedges in the sooty Lake.
Some beat them out with Hammers, others grace
The charming Pieces with a Monarch's Face.

And as the painful Bees in flow'ry May,
On various Works employ the precious Day.
Some gather waxen Stores, and bring them home
On laden Thighs, with curious Labour some
(Rare Architects) erect the golden Comb.
Some overstock'd lead forth the younger Fry
To seek new Seats, and plant a Colony.
Some put on Arms, and with bold Sallies drive
The Drones (a lazy Nation) from their Hive.
Others with liquid Nectar crowd the Cells;
The Work grows hot, the fragrant Honey smells.
So Mammon's griesly Servants ply the Mint,
While he stands by, and holds them to their Stint.

A short Repast here Belial did receive,
Then thank'd his gen'rous Host, and took his Leave.
To whom old Mammon briefly thus reply'd,
Farewel, and may good Fortune be your Guide!
The Work already done, methinks, I view:
For what's design'd by one so wise as you
Can hardly fail. Success must needs attend
Whate'er you manage. Go, my noble Friend,
And ruin the proud Slave, that dares rebel
Against our Lord, the mighty Prince of Hell.
Rather than he should 'scape deserved Fate,
Let me be banish'd from this vast Estate,
And all these wealthy Regions see no more,
But live (oh hateful Life!) Honest, and Poor.

Thence parting Belial took the nearest Way,
And soon attain'd the lightsome Realms of Day,
To Idumea straight unseen he went,
Near to the Place where Job had pitch'd his Tent.
Of thicken'd Air there forms a neat Disguise,
Apt to deceive th' unwary Matron's Eyes)
By wise, Angelick Art: For though they fell
From Grace, their nat'ral Pow'rs they keep in Hell,
And still in crafty, juggling Feats excel.

The Form of Job's Wife's Mother, lately dead,
He takes, and spreads with Snow his shaking Head.
He counterfeits her Stature, Shape, and Meen,
And in his Face were all her Features seen.
Her hollow Cheeks, sunk Eyes, and Toothless Mouth,
He so bely'd, they well might pass for Truth.

It was the time when Luna's milder Light
Made Night more cool than Day, but scarce less bright,
When, thus disguis'd, the Fiend does softly come,
With short and trembling Steps, into the Room,
Where lay the Dame in Sleeps soft Fetters ty'd,
To whom th' Impostor thus himself apply'd,

Dear Daughter, while kind Fate my Life did spare,
To make you Rich and Happy was my Care:
Still in the Grave the same Desire remains,
Death cannot break Love's Adamantine Chains.
When you to Job in nuptial Bands were ty'd,
You seem'd so fortunate, so blest a Bride,
That all that lov'd you did congratulate,
And others envy'd your thrice happy Fate.
So Wise, so Rich, so Comely he was then;
He seem'd the choicest of the Sons of Men.

Only our Country GODS he would not own,
But serv'd a Deity to us unknown:
Hence all His Griefs and Yours.
For they, incens'd to find themselves contemn'd
By one they favour'd so, in Wrath condemn'd
The Wretch to lose what they had giv'n before,
Smote him with Boyls, and justly made him Poor.
Nor can the GOD he serves his Friend protect:
Or, if He can, why does He him neglect?
Well: Let him suffer. He deserves his Fate,
And on himself has brought the GOD's just Hate.
But why should you a Partner with him be
In Punishment, who from his Guilt are free?
Go, and provoke him to blaspheme his GOD,
Who cannot save him from the angry Rod
Of our more just and potent Deities:
If he repent, he may perhaps appease
Their mighty Wrath, and thro' their Grace obtain
His former Health and Happiness again.
Or else his GOD, who possibly may have
Pow'r to destroy Mens Lives, tho' not to save,
For his Apostacy may strike him dead,
And then of all your Griefs at once you're rid.

For in his Room the GODS will soon provide
A second Husband worthy such a Bride,
Rich, Noble, Young. For in the Fatal Book
I lately had the Priviledge to look,
And read your glorious Fortunes: Only He
Stands, like a Cloud, betwixt thy Heav'n and Thee.
He gone, good Fortune shall his Place possess,
And bring with her Prosperity and Peace.
In Wealth and Honour, like a mighty Queen,
Thou long shalt Reign, and when this happy Scene
Is past, descend well-pleas'd, and in the sweet
Elysian Groves thy joyful Mother meet.

He spoke, and vanish'd. Straight the Matron's Breast
A Fury wild and blasphemous possest:
Impiety engross'd her Soul, and all
The weak Remains of Grace and Virtue fall.

Mean while the Gates of Heav'n were open'd wide,
And forth the Sun in glorious Pomp did ride,
Fine as a Bridegroom, when the Day is come
To lead the beauteous Nymph, a conq'ring Captive, home.
Swift as a Giant, eager to debate
With flying Feet his Title to the Plate.

Up gets the Dame (the Fury in her Breast
Would suffer her to take no longer Rest)
To Job's Apartment all in hast she flies,
Where the good Man opprest with Sorrow lies.
In pious Pray'rs he had spent the tedious Night,
And Faith and Patience, made his Burden light.
Just as her Feet upon the Threshold trod,
She heard him sigh, and cry, Have Mercy, O my GOD!
Then in she bolts: Her furious Bosom full
Of Belial, round her Eyes distracted roll,
And thus at last she vents her angry Soul.

What! Mercy still! No wonder, since you find
The GOD you serve so gracious, and so kind.
If Want and Sickness may be call'd Rewards,
Plenty of these t'his Servants he affords.
O happy Man! Go on, and dying bless
Your Noble Patron: He deserves no less.
What Sot, but you, would court his mortal Foe?
Our better GODS would scorn to serve you so.
Grow wise at last, unchain your Servile Tongue,
And tell him you resent th' ingrateful Wrong,
Were I thus rack'd with dire, excessive Pain,
This Passive Meanness how would I disdain!

I would not sneak beneath th' unequal Load,
Nor feebly cry, “Have Mercy, O my GOD!
But with bold Curses I would satisfy
My just Revenge, and then with Pleasure die.
I would not wait his Leisure thus, nor be
Compell'd by Him to live in Misery?
His ling'ring Tortures I would soon prevent,
And end my hateful Days in manly Discontent.

She spoke. Her Words good Job amaz'd did hear,
Words unaccustom'd to his pious Ear.
As one that happens unawares to set
Upon a Snake unseen his naked Feet,
Steps back, all pale to see him raise his long
And speckled Neck, and dart his forked Tongue:
So was the Saint surpriz'd; so started he
To hear her bold and impious Blasphemy.
But, recollected soon, his careful Eye
Upon the Dame he fixt, and made this mild Reply:

Better't had been to be for ever dumb,
Than that such Language from thy Lips should come.
Ah! foolish Woman, void of Grace and Sense!
Has Satan seiz'd thy Soul, and banish'd thence

All that is wise and virtuous? May not GOD,
When we offend, use his chastising Rod?
Shall we confine th' Almighty to our Will,
Still to be doing Good, tho' we do Ill?
And must he only what we chuse bestow,
As if what's fit, not GOD, but we did know?
Shall we the Joys, we merit not, receive,
Yet curse, if Heav'n deserved Sorrows give?
'Tis Partial, this: And argues that our Breast
Is by th' Ignoble Principle possest
Of Pride, Self-love, and sordid Interest.
From GOD come Good and Evil; Both design'd
By different Methods to improve Mankind:
And Both we ought to take with a contented Mind.

Such was his Speech. So gently he reprov'd
The direful Rage of her he dearly lov'd.
Such awful Majesty and Light Divine
Did in his patient Looks, and Answer shine,
That Belial's Agent found no more to say,
But blush'd, stood still awhile, then silent slipt away.

2 Cor. 5. 7.

Gen. 3. 15.

Mat 4. 1, &c.

Psal. 19. 5.

The Third BOOK.

Mean while loquacious Fame the News thro'-out
Each Corner of the Land had spread about.
The Monster Fame; by Stealth brought forth at first,
And secretly, while young and tender, nurs'd.
But soon grown up, she walks the World around,
Nor can her Birth, or Parents now be found.
And, like a Snow-ball rowling down a Hill,
The further she goes on, grows bigger still,
And shoots, till stalking on the Ground, she shrowds
Her lofty Head unseen amongst the Clouds.

A Thousand Tongues, and twice so many Ears,
She has, and always talks, and always hears.
If true or false she cares not, so she may
Have ever something strange and new, to say.
She never tasts the Sweets of balmy Rest,
Nor takes the peaceful Night into her Breast.
But stands, and watches all that's spoke and done:
Nothing escapes her underneath the Sun.
Bus'ness and Sports, Intrigues of Love and State,
With all the Turns of kind and angry Fate,
These are the daily Burden of her Songs,
Th' eternal Task of all her busy Tongues.
But chiefly in sad Subjects she delights,
Plagues, Murders, Ship-wrecks, Deaths, and dire Affrights,
And sudden Losses gladly she recites.
Now vainly flatters, then as vainly scares,
And fills the World with doubtful Hopes and Fears.

This Lady in her Journey chanc'd to light
On Eliphaz, the noble Temanite.
A Person wise and good, and near ally'd
To God-like Job on the maternal Side.

One Grandame bless'd them both, but Nature's Band
Was straighter ty'd by Virtue's sacred Hand.
Religion closer binds than Names of Blood:
One Father makes not Brothers, like one GOD.

To this great Man the Damsel did relate
The Story of his Friends unhappy Fate,
Losses so great, and Pains s'extremely sore,
Fame, tho' a Liar, could not make them more.
The Hero sigh'd, and from his mournful Eyes
A Flood of Tears did uncommanded rise.
To Bildad straight a Messenger he sends,
And Zophar, Job's and his undoubted Friends.
Both Men of Age and Wisdom, famous both
For Wealth and Honour, Piety and Troth.
Each Head and Patron of his Tribe, and each
By good Example, more than Laws, did teach
Their People Virtue. Such were Princes then,
Not Greatest only, but the Best of Men.

Over the Shuites valiant Bildad reign'd,
An hardy Race, to Wars and Labours train'd.
Their fair and fruitful Land so charm'd the Eyes
Of bord'ring Kings, each long'd to catch the Prize.

As Rival Suitors with ambitious Pride
Strive, each to make the beauteous Nymph his Bride:
With no less eager Emulation They
Contest to make those happy Fields their Prey.
But all their Expeditions prov'd in vain:
The Shuites well their Country did maintain.
For frequent Dangers and unjust Alarms
Had taught them all the early use of Arms.
Their active Youth the Glebe in Armour till'd,
And could as well the Lance, as Sheep-hook wield.
In painful Husbandry, or toylsome Fights
Employ'd, they left no Room for soft Delights
T'unman their Souls. Nor did declining Years
Exempt the Aged; but their hoary Hairs
They with an Helmet prest, and forth they go,
Leading their Sons to meet th' invading Foe.
With Zeal and Courage warm'd, they all contend
Their native Soil and Freedom to defend.

From Nah'ma, Zophar drew his high Descent,
And much his Nation's Glory did augment.
To Arts and Learning more than Arms inclin'd.
His Choice he made it to improve his Mind.

Wise Nature's Book with Care he did revolve,
And Philosophick Doubts could well resolve.
Of heav'nly Bodies he the Knowledge sought,
And to fixt Rules their wandring Motions brought.
He taught the Planets to submit, and run
Their bidden Course, and wait upon the Sun,
The Sun of all Corporeal Lights the King,
The shining Gem in Nature's Golden Ring,
Who in the Center reigns unmov'd, and thence
To all around does Light and Life dispence.
This beauteous Science he adorn'd, and it
To long, successive Ages did transmit.

Those Royal Sages sprang from Zophar's Stem,
Who found the New-born GOD at Bethlehem,
Led by a Star (for as the Heav'ns they view'd,
They saw it rise, and wisely did conclude
From that new Phosphor's entring on the Sky,
The Sun of Righteousness himself was nigh.)
They found th' Eternal Infant softly laid
In the fair Bosom of the Heav'nly Maid.
They saw, what all the Saints of old did wish,
The Deity conceal'd in Humane Flesh.

Their quick-ey'd Faith discern'd a Beam Divine
Through the dark Vail of Mortal Weakness shine.
The Mystick King in Swadling Bands they own,
His Court, a Stable, and a Crib, his Throne.
And to th' Almighty Babe for Help they pray'd,
And with glad Hearts their Homage-Off'rings pay'd.

No sooner were th' unwelcome Tidings brought
But they, with Grief, and gen'rous Pity fraught,
Agreed all three to visit Job, and spend
Some Days in comforting their ancient Friend.
So, mounting their swift Camels, forth they ride,
Attended by their Slaves on ev'ry Side.

In th' middle way betwixt Job's House and Theirs
A gentle Hill to Passengers appears,
Upon whose Side (with shady Woods around,
Woods with the Mount it self Cœval crown'd)
A stately Palace in those Ages stood,
(Now wash'd away by Time's impetuous Flood)
Wherein there dwelt a Prince, who did command
The fruitful Vale beneath, and all the Land
That lay extended wide on either Hand,

Elihu, who (as sacred Records tell)
Was Son and Heir to Mighty Barachel,
Sirnam'd the Buzite; and his Grandsire Ram
Was near of kin to faithful Abraham.
So Great, so Good was his illustrious Line,
Himself a wond'rous Youth, and blest with Gifts Divine.
Deep Wisdom fill'd his Breast, and from his Tongue
A Flood of sacred Oratory sprung.
Wealthy and Free, his Goods he did impart
With an unbounded Hand, and liberal Heart.
And pleas'd with Deeds of Charity, he thought
Himself most happy, when most Good he wrought.

Now the bright Sun was leaving ours, to chear
With rising Beams the other Hemisphere,
When at this House the trav'lling Sages light,
There with their noble Friend to lodge that Night.
The court'ous Hero met them at the Gate,
And there receiv'd them with a Princely State.
He bow'd, and kiss'd, and kindly welcom'd all,
Conducting them into his spacious Hall.
On Purple Seats their weary Limbs they rest,
Mean while within a plent'ous Supper's drest.

On ev'ry side bright Tapers shine on high,
And th' Office of the absent Sun supply.
By which they view'd the Hangings 'round the Room,
Rich Tap'stry stretcht on finest Tyrian Loom.
On which were rare and wond'rous Figures wrought,
That to the Eye surprizing Pleasure brought,
Not light, nor trifling Landscips, apt t'inspire
The Seer's Breast with vain, or wanton Fire:
But serious, chast, and sacred; such as might
No less instruct the Mind, than please the Sight.

The universal Deluge here was seen
Done to the Life, as if't had Nat'ral been,
The Cataracts of Heaven were open'd all,
At once, and down at once whole Oceans fall.
The trembling Earth, with strong Convulsions broke,
Sinks down into the Deep, & with the pond'rous Shock
Forc'd up, vast Tides of unknown Waters rise,
And march to joyn the Forces of the Skies.
Combined thus they madly swell and roar,
And swallow all the Globe, and leave no Shore.
Fat Bulls and Lions, Sheep, and griesly Wolves,
Promiscuous swim: One Ruin all involves.

The tim'rous Fish down to the Bottom creep,
And wonder what new Monsters throng the Deep.
The Birds, long flutt'ring o'er the Deluge, hope
To save themselves, but, fainting, in they drop.
Women and Men in wild Confusion run
From Place to Place, but can't the Danger shun.
Nor Beauty Them, nor Strength can rescue These:
Nor can their mutual Charms each other please.
Some to the Mountains fly, and there in vain
Protract their Breath some Hours with greater Pain.
Some climb tall Trees, and, hanging near the Sky,
Are starv'd, before the Waters rise so high.
But th' happy Ark, which Heav'ns high Hand defends,
Alone escapes the Fate that all the World attends,
And safely riding on the foaming Waves,
The small Remains and Hope of Mankind saves.
Whilst sinking Wretches see it swim aloft,
And envy those at whom they lately scoff'd.

Another Piece presented to their View,
Great Babel built by Nimrod's haughty Crew.
Some burn the Brick, some slake the thirsty Lime,
With Hods of Mortar some steep Ladders climb.

Some ply the Trowel, others with a Line
And Plummet square and form the vast Design.
High Walls ascend, and monstrous Turrets rise,
And thrust their Heads far up into the Skies.
All Hands are full employ'd: when, Lo! from Heav'n
Fierce Thunderbolts, by stormy Whirlwinds driv'n,
Strike the proud Turrets, batter down the Walls,
And their long Project in a Moment falls.
Confusion seizes all. Some wildly fly,
And others under Heaps of Rubbish die.
As Thunder-struck they stood all o'er amaz'd,
And in strange Postures on each other gaz'd.

But that which most detain'd their wond'ring Eyes
A lively Prospect was of Paradise.
Thick Rows of Trees in beaut'ous Order stand,
Planted and water'd by th' Almighty's Hand.
Some for their Fruit admir'd, and some for Shade,
For Profit some, and some for Pleasure made.
The Glebe, so fair and fruitful, it confess'd
It self by more than Nature's Bounty blest.
Pure Rivers gently slide along the Plains,
And moisten all the Ground from their full, flowing Veins.

The rising Banks with smiling Flow'rs are crown'd
Which shed their Purple Beams, and charming Sweets around.
No Herb, nor Flow'r, nor Tree by Nature drest,
Could vanquish those which Art had there exprest.

Here Adam sate in high Majestick State,
Whilst all the Subject-Creatures 'round him wait.
All Beasts that Woods, Fields, Deserts can afford,
Present themselves before their awful Lord.
Young Lambs and tender Kids about him play:
Lions and Wolves stand by as mild as They.
The feather'd Choir meet to adore their King
In num'rous Flocks, and to the Eye they sing.
The scaly Shoals crowd to the River's Side,
And, had not Nature Voice and Feet deny'd,
They had not fail'd, with th' others to present
Addresses from the liquid Element.

Thus GOD's Vicegerent He the Scepter sway'd,
And humble Homage all the Creatures pay'd
To him, as Monarch of the Land and Sea,
Subject to none but GOD, and only less than He.
Nor had this glorious Empire e'er decay'd,
Had he his Sov'reign, as they him, obey'd.

There nigh the Center of the Garden stood
The Tree of Life, yielding immortal Food:
Whoever tasts its Fruit fresh Life receives,
And Health and Vigor grow amongst its Leaves.

Near it, the Tree of Knowledge, spreading wide
Its laden Boughs, by a crystal River's Side.
Lovely and Fair its Burden look'd, but did
More Fair and Lovely seem, because forbid.
Beneath its Shade stood beaut'ous Eve, and in
Her doubtful Face a warm Debate between
The Force of Duty and Desire was seen.
Her Eye was fix'd upon the tempting Fruit,
As if she long'd to tast, but durst not do't.
The sly, malicious Serpent, gazing by,
Observes the Motion of her Hand and Eye,
And, boldly raising up his shining Crest,
Seems to invite her to the fatal Feast.
Now she puts forth her Hand, then pulls it back,
As if she felt some sudden, inward Check.
Now Faith prevails, then Flesh the Strife renews:
Reason condemns, what Sense would fain excuse.

At last she weakly yields, but finds th' Effect
Not such, as her wild Fancy did project.
She eats; and all her Race her Frailty mourn,
Her hapless Race, undone before they're born.

While thus their ravish'd Eyes the Princes fed,
The Board, with fine Egyptian Linnen spread,
Is fill'd with Dishes, not for Pomp, but Use;
Not Vain, yet Splendid; Rich, but not Profuse.
Sufficient for a temp'rate Mind's Delight,
But not to urge a wanton Appetite.
No Gluttony those vig'rous Ages knew:
Excess into a Fashion lately grew.
Health and long Life their Meals did then afford:
Now Sickness and swift Death wait on the Board.

All things prepar'd, down sit the welcome Guests,
Whom their kind Host with gen'rous Bounty feasts.
With rich Arabian Wine the Bowls are crown'd,
And pass from Man to Man in sober Order round.
The sad Occasion of their meeting there
Oblig'd them Mirth and Musick to forbear.
Joy seem'd to them indecent, while their best
And dearst Friend with Sorrow lay opprest.

But grave and wise Discourse supply its Place,
And GOD-like Job their mournful Subject was.
Now they his Virtue and Religion praise,
His Learning then, and wond'rous Wisdom raise.
Now they recal his former happy Fate,
And then bewail his present, chang'd Estate.

I heard it, says Elihu, e'er you came,
The sad Account was brought by trav'lling Fame.
And since this Journey you design to take
For our great Friend and worthy Patron's Sake,
One of your Number, if you please, I'll make.
They rose, and bow'd, and thanks to him addrest,
Then parted, and betook themselves to Rest.

Now Phosphor, leading on the golden Day,
Had chas'd pale Ghosts, and rav'ning Beasts away,
Close in their Dens the savage Monsters hirk,
And Man goes forth in Safety to his Work,
Up rose the Princes. Hail and brisk they rose,
Nor did their last Night's Feasting indispose
Their Mind or Body; but, equipt with Speed,
They rode together, as they had agreed,

In various Talk they spend the weary Day,
And entertain each other on the Way,
Till coming to their Journey's End, they found
The suff'ring Hero on the naked Ground.
So chang'd from what he was, so full of Woe,
That for a while their Friend they did not know.
His Griefs were s'extream, so sad his Fate,
So far beyond what People did relate,
Or they imagine, that they stood amaz'd,
And at a Distance on his Sorrows gaz'd.

So (if sad things we may with glad compare,
Job in the Dust with GOD-like David's Heir
Upon the Throne, so) the fair Southern Queen,
When she the Pomp of Solomon's Court had seen,
And heard his Royal Wisdom, did confess,
That Fame, tho' strangely great, had made them less,
Nor could the Half of what she found, express.

They wept aloud, and each his Garment tore,
And Dust upon their Comely Heads they pour,
Deep Signs of inward Anguish, and a Breast
With Sorrows, only less than His, possest.

They came to comfort and appease his Grief:
But now Themselves do want the same Relief.
Long time they sit in Ashes by their Friend,
And, dumb with Horror, mournfully attend.

Sev'n times that restless Traveller, the Sun,
His well-known Course from East to West had run:
As oft the Moon her beaut'ous Face had shown,
And lighted Mortals, when the Day was gone,
Before the Tempest, struggling in their Mind,
Could thro' their Lips its doleful Passage find.
Till Job, unable longer to contain
His swelling Passion, rose, and thus he did complain.

Curs'd be the Day when first I saw the Light!
And let eternal Horrors seize the Night
Of my Conception! oh! Why was I born
With restless Pains and Sorrows to be torn?
Why was my foolish Mother fondly pleas'd
To see her Womb of this sad Burden eas'd?
Why was my Father overjoy'd to see
His Likeness and vain Hopes reviv'd in me;
In me, whom This and future Ages shall
Of all Mankind the most unhappy call;

Whose Fate shall be the Form of Cursing, when
The worst of Ills are wish'd t'the worst of Men?
That black and dismal Day let GOD despise,
And from it turn his Beatifick Eyes.
Let not the Sun vouchsafe thereon to rise,
Nor smile upon it from the the lofty Skies.
Let Hellish Darkness challenge it, and let
Death's baleful Shadow brooding on it sit
To hatch ill-boding Hours, that nothing may
Prosper, attempted on that luckless Day.
Let Men to it eternal Malice bear,
And blot its Name from out the Calendar.
Let each revolving Year hereafter chuse,
Rather than That should come, a Day to lose.
Or if it needs must come, and nothing may
The sure establish'd Course of Nature stay,
Let all Mankind wish it at least away.
Let dire Misfortune claim it for her own,
And march with all her Terrors up and down.
Let no glad Object on that Day appear,
And only dreadful Sounds afflict the Ear.
Let frightful Sights abound; and heavy Moans
Be heard, loud Shrieks, and dismal, dying Groans,

Let not so much as one kind Star be seen,
To guide the Steps of lost, despairing Men.
Beneath eternal Darkness let it lie,
And never see the Morning's chearful Eye.
Because it shut not up my Mother's Womb,
But open see the Doors for me to come
Into a World of Woe, where Storms arise,
And Floods of Tears stream ever from mine Eyes.

Why did the Widwife do her Part? Or why
Did not the Nurse her cruel Aid deny,
And throw me down, as soon as Born, to Die?
Then had I slept, and on the peaceful Breast
Of easy Death enjoy'd eternal Rest.
With mighty Kings and Politicians then
I had dwelt in Safety, and their equal been.
Alive, vast Projects to themselves they fram'd,
At mighty Names, and mighty Fortunes aim'd,
Laid wast the weaker, neighb'ring States, that they
Alone might reign with undisputed Sway,
Rich Palaces, and strong-limb'd Castles built,
Vast Seas of Blood, and boundless Treasure spilt,
And fill'd their Houses with the wealthy Spoils
Of ravish'd Provinces, and conquer'd Isles.

Yet Peace and Rest they never could obtain:
Those rich, inestimable Gifts in vain
They labour'd for, till yielding up their Breath,
They gently sunk into the Arms of Death.
Now in the gloomy Grave secure they rest,
And neither others, nor themselves molest.

Thrice happy State! where Pain and Labour cease,
And weary Men he down in endless Peace,
From Chains releas'd poor Captives there rejoice,
Nor hear th' insulting Tyrant's threat'ning Voice,
There Small and Great on equal Terms agree,
And from his cruel Lord the Slave is free.
Princes and Swains forget there all Degrees,
Nor Them Ambition racks, nor Envy, These.

Oh! Why are Men compell'd to live in Woe?
Still to sit up, who fain to Bed would go?
Why does unkind; hard-hearted Fate deny,
Their Grief its only Sov'reign Remedy?
As Men for Gold dig deep into the Earth,
And from her Womb rip out the shining Birth,
With no less Eagerness, and careful Thought,
Is Death by Men opprest with Trouble sought:

They shout, with Joy transported, when they have
In view the Prize they court, a silent Grave.

Oh! Why is useless Light on him bestow'd,
Who groaning lies beneath a pond'rous Load
Of Misery? Whom GOD hath hedg'd about
With pointed Thorns, and left no Passage out?
Deep Sighings break my Heart before I eat,
And dismal Groans disrelish all my Meat.
I roar for Pain, in vain for Comfort seek.
And, like a River, Tears ran down my Cheek.

Alas! I never thought my self secure,
Nor high advanc'd above Misfortune's Pow'r.
I flatter'd not my self, nor hop'd that I
Alone perpetual Sun-shine should enjoy:
Or that my vent'rous Bark alone should be
Ensur'd from Ship-wreck on the Stormy Sea
Of treacherous, and frail Mortality.
I look'd for Tempests and tumultuous Hours,
For Days all black with Clouds, & wet with Show'rs,
For Pains and Losses. And, behold! They're here;
They're here, alas! nor causeless was my Fear.

Tell me my Friends: Say, did you ever see
A Man afflicted and distrest, like me?
So soon cast down (so soon, it well might seem,
Did not quick Sence evince its Truth, a Dream)
From extream Wealth and Joy, to Grief and Want extream.

Mat 2 1, &c.

Psal. 104. 22, 23.

1 Kings 10. 7.

The Fourth BOOK.

Thus spake th' afflicted Hero, but was heard
Of his hard-hearted Friends with small Regard
His Suff'rings stood so full before their Eye,
They could not through that Cloud his Virtues spy.
To their weak Faith the vast, prodigious Load
Seem'd inconsistent with the Love of God.
They thought such mighty Woes must be the Sign
And just Effect of mightier Wrath Divine.
And Satan, who mean while stood by unseen,
(His Stomach boyling with invet'rate Spleen)

Embrac'd the glad Occasion to suggest
Ill Thoughts, & with rash Censures fill'd their Breast
To Suff'rings not inur'd, they neither knew
What tender Pity is to Suff'rers due,
Nor for what wise and great, tho' hidden Ends
High Heaven sometimes afflicts its dearest Friends.
Their narrow Souls concluded Job must be
(Tho' fam'd for Faith and spotless Sanctity)
Punish'd for secret Crimes and deep Hypocrisy.
With this blind Zeal inspir'd (when Job had done
His sad Complaint) thus Eliphaz begun.

Let not our Freedom, Job, ill taken be,
Nor think we come thus far to flatter thee:
We're loath t'offend, but in a Case so plain
He must be dumb that can from Speech refrain.
Slight Hurts are eas'ly cur'd, but for a Wound
So rank as thine, sharp Medicines must be found.
Art thou the Man, from whom e'erwhile the weak
And feeble Hands did Help and Comfort seek?
Whose kind, refreshing Tongue supported those
Who groan'd beneath the Weight of pressing Woes?
Whose calm Advice their stormy Griefs subdu'd,
Inspiring fainting Souls with Life renew'd?

But 'tis, I find, an easier Task to give
Instructive Rules, than by the same to live.
And thou, who oft didst preach to others, art
Thy self a Stranger to the Practick Part.
'Tis come upon thee, and thou faintest straight,
Thy Shoulders sink beneath th' unequal Weight.
Now is the time t'exert thy Strength, and all
Thy chosen Forces to thy Aid to call.
What means this raving Speech, this loud Complaint?
Tell me, who ever perish'd Innocent?
When were the Righteous cut off, and when
Did GOD forsake upright and faithful Men?
You must expect to reap, as you have till'd:
If Seeds of Wickedness upon the Field
Be cast, a Crop of Sorrows it will yield.
As rapid Lightning, on swift Whirlwinds born,
Breaks and destroys the Ranks of standing Corn,
Or rides in Triumph o'er the vanquish'd Shocks,
And all the Farmer's Hope and Labour mocks:
So by the Blast of GOD's Displeasure, all
The proud Oppressors, and their Projects fall.
On Them and Theirs, a fearful, sudden Death
The angry Nostrils of th' Almighty Breath.

In those soft Hours, that are to Sleep assign'd,
Upon this Thought I'd fixt my wakeful Mind,
When on the sudden, lo! a dreadful Fear
Surpriz'd my Heart, and upright set my Hair.
I stood amaz'd, to flee I had no Pow'r,
And ev'ry Joynt about me trembled sore.
And, Lo! before my Face a shining Spright
March'd slowly by: But in so great a Fright
I could not well discern what Form appear'd.
Only a wond'rous, unknown Voice I heard.

Oh! What is mortal Man, that he so proud
Should grow, and think himself more just, than GOD?
That he should blame GOD's Counsels & Commands,
And 'gainst his Maker lift rebellious Hands?
Behold, the glorious Angels, which are made
Of pure Etherial Substance, are afraid
To justify Themselves, for ev'n in Them
A rig'rous GOD might find some Frailty to condemn.
Conscious of native Weakness, when before
The Throne of Glory prostrate they adore,
With purple Wings their blushing Cheeks they shroud;
They tremble: And shall sinful Man be proud?

Shall they be just and pure in their own Eyes,
Their Merits boast, and GOD Himself despise,
Whose Dwelling is in Houses made with Clay,
Weak Walls, which in a Moment drop away?
Whose Garments, fretted by the Moth, may teach
Their Wearers, and a Funeral Lecture preach,
How soon their Glory, Wealth and Pomp may have
An unregarded Fall into the loansom Grave.

Thus the bright Vision spake. And if thou call
The Saints in Earth and Heav'n to witness, all
To this great Truth will seal with one Consent,
That Sin the Parent is of Punishment.
On that curst Stock no Fruit but This will grow:
Who chuses One, must take the Other too.
Fast link'd by 'ternal Sanctions they remain,
And to divorce them all Attempts are vain:
Not Death it self can break the strong wrought Chain
Hence all the Pains and Losses you endure,
Which by Complaints you strive in vain to cure.
All other Methods ineffectual are
But true Repentance, and incessant Pray'r.

If thou to GOD with all thy Heart return,
And for thy Sins with deep Contrition mourn,
He will dissolve the Knot, and set thee free
From Guilt, and its Attendant, Misery.

Were I, like you, opprest with Grief and Pain,
Like you, I would not murmur and complain,
But humbly fall before th' Almighty's Feet,
And to his Pleasure silently submit.
My lawless Passions I would curb, and wait
With Faith and Hope a kind Return of Fate.
For blest is he whom Heav'ns indulgent Hand
Casts down awhile, to make him firmer stand.
Justice and Mercy both His Throne attend,
And He doth both on weighty Errands send,
He makes Men Poor and Wealthy, Sick and Sound;
He strikes, & then his hand binds up, & heals the wound.
Let ne'er so many Troubles thee assail,
And round thy Temples fly as thick as Hail,
He'll scatter them; not one shall e'er prevail.
In time of Famine he thy House will feed,
And in the Day of Battel guard thy Head.
No spiteful Tongue shall blast thy growing Fame,
Nor with a secret Stab destroy thy Name.

When all things threaten Ruin, thou shalt laugh,
And from the Teeth of rav'ning Beasts be safe.
All Nature shall thy Friendship court, and where
Thy Tent is pitch'd, Health, Peace and Plenty there
Shall pay their Homage, and Attendance give.
Thou many long and prosp'rous Years shalt live:
And, having seen thy Children like to Thee,
In Virtue, Wealth and Honour, thou shalt be
Translated by officious Angels hence,
In Triumph, to receive thy Recompence;
As Reapers bind the weighty Sheaves of Corn,
And bring them home, with Songs, into the Barn.

Thus argu'd Eliphaz. A mournful Sigh
The patient Hero fetch'd, and made Reply:

O that my Suff'rings were exactly weigh'd,
And all my Sorrows in the Ballance laid!
They would be found in Weight and Number more
Than all the Sand that spreads th' extended Shore.
Who can sustain th' Almighty's Wrath? Or stand
The dreadful Stroke of His resistless Hand?
Deep in my Side His venom'd Arrows stick,
And with the Pangs of Death my Heart is sick.

As some strong Fort, that stops the Victor's Course,
At once the Fury feels of all his Force;
At once is batter'd with a thousand Rams,
Affrighted with loud Noise and hostile Flames:
So all his chosen Terrors GOD doth call;
'Gainst me they march in warlike Order all.
Me they attack with hid'ous Cries, and on
One naked Man His armed Legions run.

In such Distress, methinks, my Friends from you
Some Favour and Compassion might be due.
And so it would, did you th' Almighty dread:
But from your Breast all Tenderness is fled,
Because you fondly think your selves secure
From all the Pains and Sorrows, I endure.

As sudden Torrents, sprung from melted Snow,
Run down the Hills, and fill the Vale below,
And court the Traveller to drink, when he
Neither feles Thirst, nor fears a Scarcity
Where'er he goes: But when the Dog-Star reigns,
And burning Heat his vital Moisture drains,
And fries the Blood within his parching Veins,

When Water (like good Tidings, which a Friend
From distant Lands does unexpected send)
Is highly priz'd, they vanish, and your Eye
Can scarce the Place where once they flow'd descry.
The Troops of Tema, the rich Caravans
Of Sheba, and the wild Arabians
Come panting to the Place, where no Relief
They find, but turn again with Shame and Grief.
Grief to be disappointed thus, and Shame
T'have trusted such a false, uncertain Stream:
To me my Friends prove now exactly such,
Who, when I wanted nothing, promis'd much,
But now desert, and with my cruel Foes
Take part, and help with them t'increase my Woes.

If this were all your Bus'ness, why from home
Did you on such an unkind Errand come?
I did not send for you; but was content
Alone to bear the Sorrows GOD had sent.
I did not beg Relief, nor once demand
Deliv'rance by you from th' Oppressor's Hand.
And can you not to your old Friend afford
The not expensive Alms of one kind Word?

What desp'rate Logick teaches to conclude
Because I am distress'd, I can't be Good?
Are Wealth and Virtue, Piety and Peace
So link'd by firm, immutable Decrees,
That nothing can dissolve the fatal Band,
But both together must, or fall, or stand?
Must Misery and Trouble ever be
The Sign of an offended Deity?
Does Suff'ring always argue Guilt? And must
Unhappy Men be Bad, or Heav'n unjust?
Does not the Sun, without Controul dispence
To Good and Bad his vital Influence?
And shall we bind Eternal Providence?
GOD made that glorious Planet: And shall He
Be tied to Rules, from which his Creature's free?
Dark are the Ways of GOD, and none can prove
From them the Objects of his Hate, or Love.
Sometimes the Wicked flourish, and enjoy
More than enough their craving Sense to cloy:
While pious Men, opprest with Loads of Grief,
Complain, like me, but meet with no Relief.

My Innocence and Fame are all that's left
To comfort me: And must I be bereft

Of those dear Jewels, which I value more
Then all the Treasures I possest before?
Hard-hearted Friends! Let me appeal from you,
To Him that rules on high, and humbly sue
For one fair Hearing, at his right'ous Seat,
Where Truth and Mercy, Peace and Justice meet.

Lord, wherefore thus dost thou contend with me?
Am I a Match fit to encounter Thee?
The mighty Whale, whom all the swimming Race
As Monarch of the wat'ry World obeys,
Sinks at thy Presence, like a Lump of Lead,
And calls for deeper Seas, to hide his fearful Head.
The mighty Ocean, where that Monster reigns,
And takes his Pastime on the liquid Plains,
Starts at thy Word, and flying back, does own
It self unable to abide thy Frown.
Yet me Thou dost constrain to stand the Force
Of thy fierce Anger; me without Remorse
Thy Fury tears, and does protract my Breath,
Meerly to suffer Torments, worse than Death.
I can endure no longer. O forbear,
And for thy Wrath some hardier Subject rear.

Remove thy Hand, and let thine Anger cease,
That I may breath a little while in Peace.
Or, if not That, at least This Mercy show,
Dispatch me soon, with one kind, killing Blow.

As weary Slaves hate the laborious Light,
And wish the quick Return of shady Night;
And toyling Lab'rers wait to see the Day
Fall from the Sky, that they may take their Pay,
So do I covet Death, and long to be
From Life, and its Companion, Sorrow, free.
I loath its very Name; its real Pains,
And fancy'd Joys my Soul alike disdains.
Inspir'd with noble Ardour, Death, to thee
Life's only Remedy, I gladly flee.
Come, gentle Friend, and on thy welcome Breast
Receive my Head, and charm it into Rest.
Life is a perfect Cheat: 'Tis only Thou
That canst the Gifts, she promises, bestow.
In vain of Goods, of Health and Liberty
The Living boast: For none are Rich or Free,
Healthful or Sound, but such as are made so by Thee.

He scarce had done, when Bildad Silence broke,
And rising up, in mighty Passion spoke.

How long wilt thou thus wildly talk? How long
Against thy Maker bend thy Frantick Tongue?
Shall GOD pervert the Rules of Equity,
Or his fix'd Methods change, to pleasure thee?
Doubtless thy Children fell beneath the Stroke
Of that just Vengeance, which they did provoke
By lewd Excesses: doubtless Heav'n was Just
To punish thus their Riot, and their Lust.
And thou thy self art not exempt from Sin,
But secret Crimes by Thee have harbour'd been.
Thy Substance could not prosper, nor thy Wealth
Continue, got by Rapine, or by Stealth.
By Strength of Hand thou hast opprest the Poor,
And robb'd thy Brother, to encrease thy Store.
But to the Rich thy Friendship thou hast sold,
And further'd his unlawful Claims, for Gold.
Thou hast despised GOD, and thought that He
Thro' the thick Cloud thy Follies could not see,
Or full employ'd above, no time could find
To look below, and visit Humankind.

Such horrid Crimes thou hast indulg'd, or now
Thou hadst not suffer'd thus, nor fall'n so low.
Thy pious Works, and boasted Innocence
Appear but Splendid Cheats, and meer Pretence.
Had they been True, th' Almighty would arise
For Thee, and save thee from thine Enemies.
Thy Body he would heal, thy Loss restore,
And make thee happier, than thou wast before.

This Truth to past and present times well known,
Succeeding Ages shall receive and own.
By long Experience prov'd, it shall extend
Its Light from Times first Spring unto its End.
That GOD will never help, nor prosper those
Whom proud and wicked Works have made his Foes.
But they that worship Him, and keep his Laws
Adhering constant to his right'ous Cause,
His choicest Favours shall enjoy, and prove
The darling Objects of his tender Love.

O then these bold and impious Words forbear,
And turn them into meek and ardent Pray'r.
Return to GOD, and set thy Conscience free
From secret Sins and close Hypocrisy.

Then shalt thou find an happy Change, and see
A joyful End of all thy Misery.
By Help Divine thy Fortunes thou shalt raise,
Enjoying long, serene, and healthful Days,
And turn thy loud Complaints to louder Songs of Praise.

He spoke, and down he sate: then Job arose,
And thus a second time did interpose.

I know that GOD is just, and never can
Do Wrong to me, or any mortal Man.
His Wisdom and his Pow'r my Soul adores,
And ev'n the least rebellious Thought abhors.
Alas! who dares contend with Him, or hope
By Force, or Fraud, his awful Hand to stop,
At whose Command the Mountains quit their Place,
And fly, like frighted Lambs, before his Face?
Who from her Base the pond'rous Earth does shake,
That like thin Reeds her strongest Pillars quake.
Without whose Leave the Sun dares not to rise,
Nor lead the beaut'ous Day along the Skies.
Who th' airy Regions, like a Curtain spreads,
And on the foaming Billows boldly treads.

Whose Nod the Heav'ns obey, and all the Host
Of Stars, that deck and guard th' Etherial Coast.

How then shall I (poor Worm) presume to mount
The Throne of GOD, and call Him to account?
Had I an hundred Tongues, for my Defence
In flowing Rhet'rick dipt, & arm'd with massy Sense,
I should no sooner to his Presence come,
But all those Tongues would falter, and be dumb;
Or else, instead of Pleading, humbly fall
To Pray'r, and for some Ease and Pity call.
For me the Tempest of his Fury shocks,
And breaks in Pieces with redoubled Strokes.
To breath I am not able: Such Excess
I feel of Pain, as no Words can express.

I know no Cause, why me th' Almighty hath
Thus singled out, to bear his burning Wrath:
Nor can I of one Sin my self accuse
In all that heavy Roll, which you produce.
But this I know, and will affirm it still,
That Judgments fall alike on Good and Ill.
His Shafts at Random fly, his careless Steel
As well the Righteous as the Wicked feel.

And in his furious March, no Difference
He makes at all 'twixt Guilt and Innocence.
Fair Provinces, and vast Estates on those
That scorn his Laws his lavish Hand bestows.
Observe the mighty Men, and you will find
The greater Number of the worser kind.
But those that serve him, and that love him best,
With Pains and Sorrows are, like me, opprest.

I once as Rich and Happy was as you,
And in Prosperity surpass'd by few:
But now 'tis gone, 'tis gone.
As well-built Navies, favour'd by the Wind,
Cut thro' the yielding Waves, & leave no Path behind
As hungry Eagles hasten to their Prey
And print no track of their äerial Way:
So are my Joys all fled, and nothing now
Remains, that once I happy was, to shew.

If This the Portion be by Heav'n bestow'd
On just and pious Men, who will be Good?
Who will reform his Ways, or take the Pain
To wash his Hands, and cleanse his Heart in vain,
If, notwithstanding all this Care, he must
Fall under Suff'rings, due to the unjust?

'Tis a strange Riddle, this: And oh that I
Might once obtain of GOD the Liberty
To talk about it! I would fill my Mouth
With Arguments, and boldly speak the Truth.
But GOD is not a Man: His dreadful Brow
So over-aws me, that I know not how
To speak. But let him take his Rod away,
And all his armed Terrors from him lay,
And He shall find I something have to say.

These Words so harsh to Zophar seem'd, that he
No longer could endure such Blasphemy,
(For so he thought it) but concern'd to take
Th' Almighty's Part, he thus in Anger spake.

Must your unruly Tongue be thus allow'd
Without Rebuke, t'accuse Almighty GOD?
Must your bold Slanders Heav'n and Earth belye
As cruel and unjust, while we sit silent by?
Are your Afflictions, think you, a Defence
For Passion, Pride, and impious Insolence?
Must we sit still, and not reply, for Fear
Of adding to the Load, you justly bear?
Justice Divine you boldly have deny'd;
And all your Words and Actions justify'd.

You mock at GOD, and think we do you wrong,
If we refute and check your lawless Tongue.
But, oh that GOD himself his Lips would ope,
And thy false Mouth with righteous Answers stop!
That He would teach you a more equal Sense
Of his just Laws, and careful Providence!
That He would make you know, that tho' the Score
Of your Complaints be great, your Sins are more,
And if he should increase your Pains, you must
Submit, and still confess Him to be Just!

You say (but falsely) that the self same Fate
Does on the Right'ous and the Wicked wait.
That they who just and upright Ways pursue,
The Pay receive that is to Sinners due.
But did not Pride and Rage thy Soul enthrall,
This groundless Slander thou wouldst soon recall.
For doubtless GOD in pious Men delights,
They are his special Friends, and Favourites.
Blessings he spreads around them ev'ry Day,
And shines upon them with a vig'rous Ray.
Peace he creates, and Plenty, for the Sake
Of such, and prospers all they undertake.

Their Houses He protects from Harm, nor dare
Disease, nor doubtful Danger enter there.
But wicked Men, and Hypocrites, like you,
Meet the Reward to their Offences due.
In vain they look for Happiness, in vain
Of dismal Pains and Losses they complain:
None hears their Cry. Their proud Designs are crost,
Their Hearts are broken, all their Hopes are lost,
They faint, like those that render up the Ghost.

Thus Zophar did his eager Passion vent,
And when his Zeal and Anger all was spent,
Illustrious Job resum'd the Argument.

How long will ye my Meaning thus pervert,
And with your cruel Slanders break my Heart?
If yours were mine, and mine were your Estate,
I could deride, and triumph o'er your Fate,
As you o'er mine: But I would rather prove
The milder ways of Gentleness and Love.
My healing Tongue should minister Relief,
I'd not augment, but try to mitigate your Grief.
O miserable Comforters! Go on
And mock your Friend, as hitherto y'have done.

A larger Field, I'm sure, you cannot meet
To exercise a keen, Satyrick Wit.

You are the Men of Parts, no doubt, to whose
Grave Sense and Judgment all our Reason bows.
You are the Men t'whom all Respect is due:
Wisdom with you was born, and it shall die with you.
Yet shall not all your wise Discourses make
My stedfast Soul its first Resolves forsake.
Your learned Pleas give not the least Pretence
To question, or suspect my Innocence.
While Breath remains, while God enables me
To speak a Word, that Word shall justify
My Life and Practice to have been sincere,
And always guided by th' Almighty's Fear.
Say what you will: Yet my own Tongue shall ne'er
Consent, nor 'gainst my self false Witness bear,
For in just Ways my Feet have ever trod,
I still have kept the Precepts of my GOD,
And lov'd them better than my daily Food.
Yet will not this exempt me from the Pains,
Contempt and Sorrow that my Soul sustains.
Th' Almighty will do what he will; nor can
His Sentence be controul'd by mortal Man.

Some wicked Men remove their Neighbour's Bound,
Usurp his Land, & reap another's Ground.
His Flocks they seize by Force, thereon to feed
And feast themselves, and justify the Deed.
The Orphan's Ass (his whole Estate) away
Some drive, and make the Widow's Ox a Prey.
The helpless Traveller some rob and kill,
And all their Houses Spoil and Rapine fill.
The Land with Thefts and Murders they molest,
And with Pyratick Force the Seas infest.
Others, with Lust and lawless Passion led,
In secret creep to the loose Harlot's Bed.
All Night dissolv'd in Joys obscene they lie,
But curse the dawning Morn's discov'ring Eye.
Vain Fools, to fear the Face of Men, but slight
The quick Remarks of GOD's all-piercing Sight.

Yet all these prosper in their wicked Ways,
And Mirth and Musick entertain their Days.
Their ill-got Substance thrives, their Goods abound,
And Health and Safety compass them around.
Their Sins and Joys with equal Pace advance,
And to the tuneful Harp their Children dance.

In Peace and Pleasure num'rous Days they spend,
No Mark of Vengeance does their Lives attend:
No Pains unusual torture them in Death,
But softly, and with Ease they yield their Breath,
And large Possessions to their Sons bequeath,

But Right'ous Men their Age in Sorrow wast,
And hardly once the Sweets of Living tast.
Their Life from first to last they justly may
Account a rainy, blustring Winter's Day;
And when the long Fatigue at last is done,
Black Clouds and Storms disturb their dying Sun.
In Arbitrary Manner GOD bestows
Both Good and Evil here, and no Man knows
His Friends, by present Dealings, from his Foes.

Learn Wisdom then, and own that Providence
Acts by a Law superior far to Sense.
'Tis Faith alone can solve the knotty Doubt,
And vig'rous Hope must make the Riddle out.
Th' important Secret only GOD reveals,
And in the Breast of his choice Servants seals,
That Wicked Men, by Heav'ns severe Decree,
Are spar'd, to fill up their Iniquity.

Which done, their seeming Joys shall end with Speed,
And real Sorrows in their Place succeed.
Their Wealth is in a Moment gone, and now
Begins a Tragick Scene of endless Woe.
But Pious Souls by Suff'rings are prepar'd
For future Happiness, a rich Reward.
Affliction is the Fire, wherein their Mind
From Sin, and drossy Mixtures is refin'd.
That in their Father's Kingdom they may shine
(Like Angels) all Immortal and Divine.

O that my Words were Printed in a Book,
Or deep engraven on the solid Rock:
That they might stand for ever firm, and be
The Witness of my Faith to late Posterity!
For I believe, and surely know, that my
Redeemer lives, and reigns above the Sky;
To Him all Pow'r belongs, and he will save
My Soul, and raise my Body from the Grave.
Altho' my Flesh, now pain'd with Sickness, must
Hereafter fall, and crumble into Dust;
Altho' my Skin, now spread with Sores, must feed
The hungry Worms, that in dark Charnels breed;

Yet at the Latter Day I shall arise,
And meet my GOD descending from the Skies.
These Eyes, which now continual Floods of Tears
Consume, and frustrate Expectation wears:
These very Eyes shall see my dearest Lord,
The Joy of Heav'n and Earth, who by his Word
Made Both, all Fair and Good, and will restore
Their Beauty, faded now, and make them more
Compleatly Bright and Lovely, than before.
Health, Peace, and Pleasure I shall tast again,
Though now my Reins be rack'd with dismal Pain,
And when this weeping Seed-time once is past,
A joyful Harvest shall succeed at last.

He spake. But so the Combat did not cease,
Nor the good Man obtain desired Peace.
Much was disputed yet on either Side,
Much was objected, and as much reply'd.
They urge, He answers, They rejoyn, and He
By Reason's Force refutes their Sophistry,
Till Satan, conscious nothing could prevail
To make the patient Hero curse and rail

Against his GOD, with Shame and Anger fled,
And in the burning Lake plung'd deep his desp'rate Head,
He gone, who fill'd their Breasts, the Sages straight
Lay down their Arms, and with Attention wait,
While GOD-like Job thus clos'd the long Debate.

Those joyful Days, oh! that I could recall,
When with GOD's Favour, like a mighty Wall,
Encompass'd safe I dwelt, when round my Head
A glorious Light, by his Command, was spread,
To guide my Steps, and keep me free from Strife,
And all the Troubles of uncertain Life!
When GOD was present still to give me Aid,
And round about me all my Children play'd,
When mighty Woods of Corn the thankful Soil
Produc'd, rewarding well the Ploughman's Toil,
When from the flinty Rock did freely stream
Floods of soft Oyl, and Brooks of tastful Cream!
Thrice happy Days, farewel.

When to the Court I pass'd in Princely State,
And in the Hall of Judgment took my Seat,

Such dazling Majesty and Grace Divine
Did in my Face and grave Deportment shine,
As fill'd th' Assembly with an awful Dread:
The Youth no sooner saw me, but they fled.
The Elders 'rose, and reverently bow'd,
And in my Presence all uncover'd stood.
A Sacred Silence seiz'd the Place, and none
Would interpose a Word, till I had done.
The Princes held their Peace, and only gaz'd,
The Nobles, dumb as Statues, stood amaz'd.
When Sentence I pronounc'd, they waited by,
And prais'd my Wisdom and Integrity.

For when the injur'd Poor for Justice cry'd,
And Fatherless, who had no Help beside,
I stood up boldly to defend their Cause,
And sav'd them from the proud Oppressor's Claws.
Vast Numbers from the Pit my Hand did raise,
Rewarded with loud Pray'rs and grateful Praise.
I made the mournful Widow's Heart rejoice,
And sing my Virtues with a chearful Voice.
I put on Justice, and it cloath'd me round,
And stood with Truth, as with a Girdle, bound:

These Ornaments, I thought, became me more
Than did my Purple, and the Crown I wore.
My Feet I to the Lame did lend, and they
That wanted Eyes had Mine, to guide their Way.
I was a Father to the Poor, and he
Justice and Mercy found at once from me.
His Cause I undertook, and if some Doubt
Arose, I labour'd till I found it out.
When wicked Men devour'd the Poor, their Jaws
I broke, and pluck'd the Prey from out their Paws.
Their Course I stop'd, and made them to restore
What they by Fraud or Force had got before.
Such worthy Deeds to Good Men much Endear'd
My Name, and they that did not Love me, Fear'd.

With Peace and Plenty, Love and Glory blest
I thought my self so certainly possest
Of Happiness, it could not slip away,
But must perforce, without inviting stay.
After a long and pleasant Life, I thought
I should with Honour to the Grave be brought.

For as a Tree, by some fair River's Side
Thrives, and extends its goodly Branches wide;

Its Root the Water sucks, its tender Boughs
Lie safe all Night beneath indulgent Dews.
So did I live and prosper; so Divine
And gentle Blessings did about me shine.

The Farmer longs not for mild Showers of Rain,
To sprout his Seed, or plump his rip'ning Grain,
So much as Men did for my Friendship thirst,
And thought them happiest, whom I favour'd first.
My Will was theirs. They pay'd a sacred Awe
To all I spoke, and took it for a Law.
Great Kings, whom Hosts and armed Troops obey,
Command not with so absolute a Sway.
These high Prerogatives I long enjoy'd,
And for the Publick Welfare all employ'd.
And, like the Sun, a gen'ral Influence
To all around I freely did dispence.
Comforts I cast abroad, and they that sad
Into my Presence came, went thence reviv'd and glad.

But now the Case is alter'd: Now in me
A sad and lamentable Change you see.
My Light is faded now, and I'm become
The Scorn of Boys, and all the vulgar Scum;

Base Sons of Earth, a vile and hateful Stock,
Scarce equal to the Dogs that kept my Flock.
Vain useless Fellows, void of Strength and Wit;
Neither for Bus'ness, nor for Labour fit.
Condemn'd to beg their Bread, or else to eat
Dry Roots and Mallow-tops, instead of Meat.
In Desert Lands they lurk'd alone, and took
Their Lodging in some Cave, or hollow Rock.
From Cities driv'n, they wandred up and down,
And underneath the Bushes made their moan.
Whene'er th' appear'd, Men shouted out, as if
Some Monster they had seen, or seiz'd a Thief.
But now they boldly leave their Dens, and meet
In sawcy Crowds, and fill the open Street.
They laugh and jeer aloud, and mournful Job
Is made the By-word of th' insulting Mob.
My Sorrows are their Mirth: They sport with me,
And make lewd Ballads of my Misery.
They treat me with Contempt, and vile Disgrace,
And fling their filthy Spittle in my Face.

GOD hath withdrawn his Favour from my House,
And let this Rout of lawless Villains loose,

To triumph in my Fall, and vex me more
Than all the Troubles I sustain'd before.
The Children rise, and push away my Feet,
And tread me down, like Mortar, in the Street.
My weary Bones with Pain and Anguish ake,
And wild Distractions keep me still awake.
All Joy and Comfort is for ever gone,
And last Year's Clouds may be recall'd as soon.

Thus ruin'd, thus forsaken, I complain
And cry to Thee, O GOD; but cry in vain.
Thou wilt not hear my Voice, but dost oppose
Thy self against me, and support my Foes.
Thou didst exalt me once on high; but now
Thy cruel Hand is turn'd, and lays me low.
Come, gentle Death; but Thee, no Friend I have,
No Hope of Ease, no Refuge, but the Grave.
From Pain and Trouble, from Contempt and Grief
That Sanctuary will afford Relief.
So far his Wrath will not extend: But there
Free from the present Sense, and future Fear
Of Evil I shall rest. For though the Gate
Of Death be terrible, and sadly straight.

In th' inner Rooms mild Peace and Safety dwell,
And when I thither come, I shall be well.

I ever bore a soft and tender Mind,
And shew'd that Mercy which I cannot find.
Sad Objects I could ne'er behold, but from
My melting Eyes a Flood of Tears would come.
And am I thus requited? Am I now
The only Man, to whom no Pity's due?
My Morning-Sun arose so Bright and Gay,
I promis'd to my self a long and happy Day:
But envious Clouds have soon o'ercast my Light,
And chang'd my Day into a Stormy Night.
Thus like a mournful Owl my Days I spend,
And bitter Sobs my dying Heart-strings rend:
Or like some Dragon, whom the Passers by
Espying start, and from the Monster fly.
My Songs are turn'd to Sighs; my Musick's dumb,
And dismal howling Notes supply its Room.

Yet still my Righteousness I must maintain,
And vindicate my Honour from the Stain
You cast upon't: For ev'ry Sense of mine
Stands bound, by Cov'nant, to the Law Divine.

Upon mine Eyes a strict Command I've laid,
Lest by those busy Wanderers betray'd
I should be tempted to deceive a Maid.
For well I know there's One above, whose Eye
Does all our Faults, however secret, spy.
He numbers all my Steps, nor can my Feet
To wicked ways decline but he will see't.
Unknown to Men much Lewdness may be wrought:
From Him we cannot hide a single Thought.
O dismal Portion! sad Reward of those
Who, drunk with Lust's enchanting Philtres, choose
Short Pleasures first, and then Eternal Woes.

If e'er I broke my Faith, or by Deceit
And guileful Projects did my Neighbour cheat;
Let GOD, who knows my Heart, my Actions weigh
In equal Scales; let Him my Life survey.
I dare appeal to his all-seeing Eye
To search and witness mine Integrity.

If Fear, or Favour, ever could divert
My Soul from Rules of Justice; if my Heart
Have hanker'd after Bribes; or if a Stain
Have cleaved to my Soul by wrongful Gain,

Then let me sow, and let another eat,
And, while I starve, be pamper'd with my Meat.

If, by unchast Affections lewdly sway'd,
My Neighbour's Honour I did e'er invade,
If e'er by me his Door besieg'd has been
To Wrong his Bed, or tempt his Wife to Sin;
Then let my Wife revenge the vile Disgrace,
And fill a Stranger's Arms, before my Face.
Let her prove false, and be another's Spouse,
And with a spurious Brood defile my House.
For this I ever thought an heinous Deed,
'Gainst which the Publick Justice should proceed.
Or, if all Courts the rampant Vice out-braves,
And they that should revenge it, prove its Slaves,
Yet Wrath Divine will on th' Adult'rer seize,
Consume his Flesh, and wast his whole Encrease.
Lust is a Flame, which, kindled in a Town,
Brings hotter Flames from Heav'n to burn it down.

If, like a Tyrant, o'er my Slaves I reign'd,
And would not hear their Voice when they complain'd,
Let GOD, my Master, turn away his Ear,
And, when I make my Pray'rs, refuse to hear:

100

For tho' these helpless Creatures Men despise,
They have a Friend and Patron in the Skies;
Who will redress their Wrongs, and for their Sake
On their imperious Lords just Vengeance take.
He made us both, and stands engag'd to be
As well to them a Father, as to me.
From the same Stock we both derive our Birth;
Our Souls from GOD, our Bodies from the Earth.
The same Respect from Him all Persons have,
The Poor and Rich, the Master and the Slave.

If I have made the Poor to wait in vain,
Or caus'd the helpless Widow to complain;
If by my self my Dainties I have eat,
And fed not hungry Orphans with my Meat;
If naked, starving Wretches, with my Fleece
Made warm and glad, did not my Bounty bless;
If by strong Arm I have oppressed those,
Whose Weakness made them fearful to oppose,
Let that presumptuous Arm, in Pieces broke,
Fall from my Shoulder, by a mighty Stroke.
For well I know, that injur'd Innocence,
Tho' here despis'd, in Heav'n has a Defence,
To punish such outragious Insolence.

101

If I have put my Trust in Gold, or said
To Silver, Thou art my Defence and Aid;
If I rejoyc'd, because my Wealth was great,
Or foolish Love on doubtful Riches set;
If when I saw the Sun or Moon arise,
And walk in Brightness thro' the lofty Skies,
I have ador'd those glorious Lights, or giv'n
Religious Worship to the Host of Heav'n;
Let GOD, thus rivall'd, thus affronted, rise,
And this Contempt in jealous Wrath chastise.

If I rejoyc'd my Foes undone to see,
Or basely triumph'd in their Misery;
If Strangers did not always prove me kind,
And in my House, a court'ous Harbour find;
Let me a Lodging want, and fall beneath
The scornful Spight of those that wish my Death.

If I have study'd to disguise my Heart,
And set my Praises off with Flow'rs of Art;
Or if (like Adam) I conceal'd my Sin,
And with slight Fig-Leaves hid my naked Skin;
Then let my Mouth be stopt for evermore,
And let my Foot ne'er stir from out the Door.

102

Oh! that the solemn Truths I now declare
By some impartial Judge examin'd were!
That GOD himself would please to interpose
And judge between me and my cruel Foes!
That in his Court a Bill might be produc'd
Of all the Crimes, whereof I stand accus'd!
I'd not decline the Charge, but boldly stand,
And answer ev'ry thing they could demand.
With Princely Freedom I would open lay
My Life, and ask them what they had to say.
And, trusting to the Goodness of my Cause,
I would not doubt to merit loud Applause.

For if my Land complain, if any Spot
Of all my vast Estate, unjustly got,
Cry out against me; if a Furrow may
Be claim'd, for which I did not fully pay;
Let all my Labours prove in vain, and let
A Crop of Thistles grow instead of Wheat:
And, when with Barley I have sown my Field,
Wild Oats, and hateful Cockle let it yield.

So Job concluded his Defence, and they
Reply'd no more, finding no more to say.

Prov. 25. 25.

Eccles. 9. 1.

Psal. 85. 10.

Psal. 114. 4.

Psal. 104. 2.

Wisd. 5. 10, 11.

Eccles 9 1, 2.

Psal 25 14.

Ecclus. 2 5.

1 Thess. 4. 16.

Psal. 126. 5, 6.

Gen. 19 24.

103

The Fifth BOOK.

Elihu all this while attentive sate,
And with much Patience heard the long Debate.
A Youth of wond'rous Parts and pregnant Wit,
And with deep Judgment blest to manage it.
Great without Pride, Wise without Self-conceit,
And crown'd (to make his Character compleat)
With humblest Modesty. Full well he knew
What Def'rence to his Elders rested due.
He would not interrupt them, nor his own
Opinion once unfold, till they had done.

104

Offence at Job and all his Friends, he took,
Th' important Case he saw they all mistook.
And much his active Mind did long to be
A Sharer in the noble Strife: Yet he
Represt his eager Spir't, till they gave o'er,
Nor spoke a Word, till they would speak no more.
Then up he 'rose, and with a graceful Air,
And el'quent Tongue, did thus his Sense declare.

Thus long I judg'd my self more fit to Hear
Than Speak, employing not my Tongue, but Ear.
Thus long my Youth I thought no Match t'engage
Your grave Experience, and maturer Age;
Which in the Chair should sit, and thence bestow
Instructive Light on us, who stand below.
But Wisdom does not still on hoary Hairs
Attend, nor stay the slow Advance of Years.
'Tis Heav'n's free Gift, which sometimes is deny'd
To Men of Age, and by the Young enjoy'd.
Disdain not then to hear, nor let my Youth
Be disregarded, while I speak the Truth.

'Twas but a rash Attempt, and does not suit
Your Honour, nor the Laws of just Dispute,

105

For Men of Years and Wisdom to pretend
With Crimes of deepest Die to charge your Friend,
To censure his whole Life, and on it cast
Opprobrious Words, and nothing prove at last.
This Way will ne'er reclaim him to a Sense
Of his Misdeeds, nor shake that Confidence
Wherein he triumphs still, and vainly prides
Himself, and all your Arguments derides.
Your Path I'll leave, and take another Course
To humble him, and bring him to Remorse.

Your Folly has incens'd me so, that I
Must either freely speak my Mind, or die.
As close-stop'd Vessels fill'd with working Wine,
The strong, imprison'd Spirit can't confine;
But with intestine Strife and Tumult spent,
It frets and labours, till it force a Vent:
So is my Breast in Pain, till it discharge
Th' uneasy Load, and set my Thoughts at large.
I must, and that with Freedom speak: The Laws
Of Justice bid me to respect the Cause,
And not your Persons. My unpractis'd Mouth
Ne'er learnt the Art to complement and sooth:
An honest Bluntness best becomes the Truth.

106

Vain flatt'ring Titles I abhor; for He
That knows my Heart the Fraud will quickly see,
And strike me dead for vile Hypocrisy.

Then hear me, Job, I stand prepar'd to speak,
If thou be ready good Advice to take.
Lo! in GOD's Stead, to whom thou hast appeal'd
So oft, I stand, and furnish'd am to yield
In his Behalf an Answer. I am made
Of Flesh, like Thee: Thou needst not be afraid.
I bear no dreadful Majesty, thy Tongue
To over-awe, nor Pow'r to do thee wrong.

Nor do I blame thy former Life, whose bright
And shining Virtues did attract our Sight,
And fill'd our Breasts with Wonder and Delight.
But what I heard, I'll speak. “I'm free from Sin,
“Thou oft hast said, my Life is pure and clean,
“My Actions have been spotless all, nor can
“Be charg'd with any Crime 'gainst GOD, or Man.
Such lofty Language looks as it defy'd
Thy Maker, and his Attributes deny'd.
His Justice thou hast challeng'd, as if He
Could shew no Cause for thus afflicting thee.

107

Behold! in this thou dost offend, nor may
Such monstrous Pride pass unreprov'd away.
For GOD is higher much than Thou, nor must
Comparison be made 'twixt Him, and mortal Dust.
With Him 'tis desp'rate Madness to contend,
And tax those Ways, we cannot comprehend.
Oblig'd to none, His Pleasure is His Rule,
And what He will, He does without Controul.
His Actions, like Himself, are wise and free,
Bound up by nothing, but his own Decree.
His Judgments are a Deep, thro' which to wade,
Our shallow Reason ought to be afraid.
Angels themselves stand trembling on the Brink,
And swiftly from th' amazing Prospect shrink.
They dare not, the Abyss is so profound,
Look down, for fear their swiming Heads turn round
How then dares Man, presumptuous Man, pretend
To search what does Seraphick Wit transcend?
And into those Mysterious Secrets pry,
Which are too dazling for an Angel's Eye.

What Reason, what Temptation can invite
Truth, Wisdom, Pow'r, and Goodness infinite

108

To break those Laws, which by his own Right Hand
Establish'd, as Himself, Eternal stand?
The little Princes of these Realms below
Sometimes oppress Good Men, and sometimes throw
Preferments on the Bad, constrain'd t'obey
The unjust Rules of weak, precarious Sway:
But 'tis not so with Heav'n's Almighty Lord,
Who fram'd and orders all things by his Word;
And, if He should his active Spir't recall,
They'd shrink away, and from their Being fall.

Consider then what lowly Rev'rence suits
Th' Almighty, and his awful Attributes.
His Justice will to ev'ry Man afford,
According to his Deeds, a full Reward.
He will not clear the Guilty, nor withdraw
His Grace from those that keep his Righteous Law.
He needs not deal unjustly to secure
His Sov'reign Right, or guard his mighty Power.
For all the World is His: He neither can
Advantage reap, nor Harm from feeble Man.

Appear these things too deep for thee to sound,
Too dark, and full of Mystery t'expound?

109

Be not dismay'd: But own thy want of Skill
T'unlock the Closet of thy Maker's Will.
Strive not with GOD, but quietly sit down,
And know, His Wisdom far exceeds thine own.
Let not thy proud, aspiring Thoughts presume
To press too near the high tremendous Room;
Where GOD, in Council with Himself, debates
The Sacred Laws, that govern humane Fates.

Believe me, Job, His secret Judgments lie
Remov'd beyond the Reach of mortal Eye.
But if thou wilt be searching, thou may'st find
In Nature's Book enough t'employ thy Mind.
First, let the Number of his Works be told,
Their Order then, and active Pow'rs unfold.
If here thou fail, thy want of Wisdom own,
And let sublimer Mysteries alone.

Observe the fruitful Rain, and silent Snow;
At his Command they swiftly come and go.
His Precept is their Rule, and whether sent
Abroad for Mercy, or for Punishment,
They straight obey, and execute the Word
Of their Creator, and Almighty Lord.

110

Sometimes they gently drop, and Plenty yield:
Sometimes with Fury they o'er-run the Field.
The Corn is laid beneath the conq'ring Flood:
The Farmer sighs, and owns the Hand of GOD.
The frighted Beasts before the Tempest fly,
And in their Dens and Coverts trembling lie.
Cold Frosts, at GOD's Command, the Floods surprize,
And o'er the Rivers lay a Bridge of Ice.
Now from the South rise misty Fogs, and then
The North Wind blows, and sweeps the Air again.
Soft Dews distill upon the Ground, and in
The wat'ry Cloud his beauteous Bow is seen.
These things surpass thy Skill, nor do'st thou know
When Show'rs will fall, or whence the Wind will blow.
What Pulleys heave the Clouds above the Air,
What unseen Engines hold them hanging there,
Till o'er the Place they come, which GOD ordains
To visit with his kind, refreshing Rains.
How come thy Garments to be warm? And where
Wast thou, when first the Seasons of the Year
Were in their Order set? Did'st thou stand by,
And help Him, when He spread the spacious Sky,

111

In which the Beams of Majesty Divine,
As in a Glass, by safe Reflection shine;
Which, if expos'd directly to the Eye,
Would solve the Frame of weak Mortality?

Yet divers ways He does instruct Mankind,
And, if they would believe, reveals his Mind.
Sometimes by Dreams and Visions of the Night
Their Ear he opes, and pours in heav'nly Light.
Sometimes by Mercies He does court their Love;
Sometimes the rougher way of Judgments prove.
Sharp Sickness he inflicts, and mighty Pains,
And binds them to their Bed with heavy Chains;
Their Stomach is so weak, they loath to eat,
Nor can their Palate tast the daintiest Meat.
Their Bones stick out, their Flesh consumes away,
And Death stands by, to seize the falling Prey.
Then by his Prophets, and the sage Advice
Of learned Ministers, He makes them wise.
If warn'd by Them, the sick Man's Soul relent,
His Sins bewail, and solemnly repent,
Such mighty Force their Intercessions bear,
Such good Success still follows faithful Prayer,

112

'Twill soon retrieve his Body from the Grave,
And his glad Soul from endless Sorrows save.
Lo! all these Ways th' Almighty does instill
Into Mens Minds the Knowledge of his Will,
That they may learn to Love and to Obey:
And more than That is Labour thrown away.

O then dispute no more, but humbly yield,
And quit, with Meekness, the litigious Field.
Confess thy Sins, that they no longer may
Avert his Sacred Face, and drive away
His Mercy from thy House: For He as soon
Can raise thy Fortunes, as He cast them down.
He does not willingly afflict, and if
Thou own his Justice, and implore Relief,
He'll soon be reconcil'd, and largely bless
Thy Years to come with Health and Happiness.

Thus did the learned Youth his Sense unfold:
Nor had Job time to answer. For, behold!
A dreadful Whirlwind on the sudden rose,
And dismal Darkness did the Place enclose.
Loud Thunders roar'd, the Earth began to quake,
And all the Pillars of the House did shake.

113

The Disputants, surpriz'd with Sacred Fear,
Fell prostrate down, and own'd that GOD was near.
Who came, his Honour there to vindicate,
And his own Cause in Person to debate.
Th' Almighty spake, and, passing by the rest,
Himself to Job in Thunder thus addrest.

What Man is this, that with an haughty Brow
Contemns his GOD, disdaining to allow
My secret Councils to be Just and Wise,
Unless with him his Maker do advise?
That with bold Ignorance pretends to throw
Disgrace on things too high for him to know;
And in proud Scorn of Majesty Divine,
Compares himself with me, his Wit with Mine?
Come Job (for thou art He) arise, and show
Thy self a Man. Begin, and let me know
What Errors in my Conduct give Offence
'Gainst me, thy Sov'reign, and my Providence.
But first, to prove thy Skill, come forth and stand
Prepar'd to answer what I now demand.

When first my Hand did found the solid Earth,
And gave to Infant Time and Motion Birth,

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Then where wast thou, thou the most Wise of Men?
Did I not act without thy Counsel then?
Who drew the noble Plan, and ev'ry Part
Contriv'd with so much Beauty, so much Art?
Who fram'd the Building, and so firmly wrought
Each curious Joynt, as far surmounts thy Thought?
Who laid the Corner-Stone, and by his Pow'r
Rais'd the high Roof, & spread the spacious Floor?
The Sons of GOD on the vast Structure gaz'd,
And all the bright, Angelick Quire amaz'd
Stood by, & with loud Songs the wise Creator prais'd.

Who sunk the deep, capacious Gulph, and found
A Way to drain the Surface of the Ground?
When, like an Infant springing from the Womb,
Down from the Hills the rowling Sea did come?
The new-born Monster in my Nursing Hands
I took, and wrapt it in soft swadling Bands
Of fleecy Clouds, and when it roar'd, with Ease
I still'd its Voice, and hush'd it into Peace.
Where long before my Wisdom had design'd
Its Place to dwell, the Ocean I confin'd,

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Enclos'd with Banks of Sand, and rocky Shoars
As sure as with strong Bars and brazen Doors.
Thus far, said I, thus far thou may'st presume;
But further I command thee not to come.
Be this thy Bound: Here let thy Waves be stay'd.
The Waves, tho' proud and stormy, straight obey'd.

Can'st thou appoint the Sun to rise, and make
His Journey short, or longer for thy Sake?
Can'st thou command him to relate to thee
The Crimes his Eye, tho' loath, does daily see,
That thou may'st punish Sinners, and proclaim
From East to West the Terror of thy Name?
Will he, at thy Request, from Wicked Eyes
With-hold his chearful Beams, which they despise,
And since in Deeds of Darkness they delight,
Involve them all in one Eternal Night?

Can thy quick Sight the Sea's vast Fund descry,
And all those secret Springs, which still supply
The flowing Mass? Can'st thou descend, and sweep
The hoarded Treasures of the wealthy Deep?
How dar'st thou then into my Judgments pry,
Which are an Ocean of Infinity?

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Who made the first rude, undistinguish'd Heap,
Where the young Seeds of all things lay asleep;
Till, by my Voice awaken'd, ev'ry Kind
Assum'd the Form and Place that I assign'd?
Who made the gloomy Face of Nature bright,
And out of Darkness struck the beauteous Light?
Or whither does that charming Creature run
To hide her self, when Night comes stealing on?
And when the conq'ring Sun remounts the Sky,
Where do the frighted Ghosts and Shadows fly?
Alas! when this alternate Course was set,
Thou wast not born, nor had'st a Being yet;
And Day and Night each other shall succeed
No otherwise than now, when thou art dead.

Or hast thou view'd th' Almighty's Magazine,
His Armoury; where pil'd on Heaps are seen
Vast Stores of pointed Bolts, and pond'rous Hail
(Th' Artillery of Heaven) prepar'd t'assail
My stubborn Foes, whenever I arise
The sinful World in Anger to chastise?

Why should I name the Snows, and fruitful Rains,
Or rig'rous Frosts that bind the liquid Plains,

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The subtle Force of Lightning, or the loud
Report of Thunder, breaking from the Cloud,
That mighty Voice of GOD, which rends the Sky,
And makes the bold Blasphemer quake, and by
His guilty Fears confess a Deity.
Why should I name the Stars of Heav'n, those bright
And glitt'ring Troops that guide the silent Night,
Their Order, Beauty, Force, and Influence,
Mysterious things, and far above thy Sense?
Descend awhile, and, if thou canst, controul
My Providence, in Nature's lower School.

Canst thou dispatch the Lion's Prey, and feed
His hungry Whelps, when they Provision need?

Or when young Ravens, having nought to eat,
Complain and cry, wilt thou prepare their Meat?
Thou canst not do't: and therefore not to thee
Do those young Orphans call for Help, but Me.
Know'st thou the Day when the wild Goates, that climb
The craggy Mountains, have fulfill'd their Time?

Or when the tim'rous Hind, seiz'd with the Throws
Of sudden Travail, feels excessive Woes,

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How at my Word from Pain she's straight releas'd,
By Midwife-Thunder of her Burden eas'd?
With Life and Vigour fill'd, the sprightly Fawns
Grow fat, and gallop o'er the Flow'ry Lawns.
They leave their Dams, & 'mongst the sprouting Corn
Such Pasture find, they care not to return.

Observe the savage Ass, that gen'rous Beast:
Was he from Bondage by thy Hand releas'd?
He scorns to wait, nor can endure to think
Of serving for pecarious Meat and Drink.
He takes his Walks at Pleasure, and disdains
To yield his free-born Neck to slavish Reins,
To take a Rider on his Back, or bear
Th' uneasy Cumbrance of a Traveller.
The barren Deserts are his Range, where he,
Secure of Peace and Native Liberty,
Enjoys the Hardships of the loansome Place,
And nobly scorns the tame, degen'rate Race,
That basely, for a little stinted Food,
Their Freedom sell, kind Nature's chiefest Good.
Their Stripes and Burdens, and their abject Fear,
When the rude Driver's surly Voice they hear;

119

He does in Safety, and at Distance see,
And wonders how they can so stupid be;
Then to the Mountain flies, where, far from Strife,
He tasts the Sweets of free and happy Life.

Canst thou perswade the Unicorn to bear
A Yoke, and be thy Servant all the Year?
In drudging for thee will he spend the Light,
And feed contented by thy Crib at Night?
Send him to plough; try if, at thy Command,
He'll draw the painful Harrow o'er thy Land.
He's wond'rous strong, and yet thou dar'st not leave
Thy Labours to his Care; nor Credit give,
If he should promise to bring home thy Corn,
And with glad Plenty fill thy spacious Barn.

Behold the Peacock's goodly Train! is he
For those Majestick Plumes oblig'd to Thee?

Did'st thou adorn the Ostrich with so bright
And gay a Form, as breeds no small Delight?
Beauty without, but Folly dwells within
That Bird, the Emblem of deceitful Sin.
She leaves her Eggs upon the barren Land,
Warm'd by kind Sun-Beams brooding on the Sand.

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Sometimes the Feet of weary Travellers
Strike on the Place, and crush them unawares;
Sometimes wild Beasts, when from the neighb'ring Wood
In hast they run, pursuing, or pursu'd,
The tender Shell in Pieces break, and kill
Th' abortive Young, and Life in Embrio spill.
Ah! cruel Mother! thus to leave the Birth
Of her own Bowels on the naked Earth!
But GOD, that gives to other Birds the Care
To save their young ones, has deny'd it her.
She apprehends no Danger e'er it fall,
And when it comes, is not concern'd at all.
Yet with expanded Wings she runs apace,
And baffles all the Masters of the Chase,
And from the swiftest Courser wins the Race.

Or, say, didst thou inspire the valiant Horse
With matchless Beauty, and undaunted Force?
He shakes his flowing Mane, and neighs aloud;
His Voice, like Thunder, frights the staring Crowd.
Canst thou distract him with vain idle Fear,
As wanton Children hunt a Grashopper?
The little Army she no sooner spies,
But leaves her tuneful Songs, and trembling flies.

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Not so the Horse; who snores, and in his Ire
From his wide Nostrils breaths out flaming Fire.
He tears the Ground up with his armed Feet,
And with Impatience longs the Foe to meet.
Fair Fame in bloody Battels he does court,
And honourable Danger is his Sport.
At all the frightful Shapes, that War affords,
He laughs, and boldly runs on naked Swords.
And with ambitious Courage does advance
'Gainst the sharp Point of the long threat'ning Lance.
Eager t'engage, he scarce can keep his Ground,
Nor wait, till licens'd by the Trumpet's Sound.
The Captain's thund'ring Voice with Joy he hears,
And hostile Shouts are Musick to his Ears.
Then fill'd with Rage, he runs to meet the War,
Resolv'd to spend his Life, or gain a Share
In those bright Garlands, which, the bloody Day
With Conquest ended, are the Victor's Pay.

Did'st thou instruct the Hawk to soar upright,
And from the Clouds the little Birds to fright?
And, when she feels cold Winter drawing near,
To change her Clime, and seek a warmer Air?

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At thy Command does the swift Eagle fly,
And mount aloft to view the neighb'ring Sky?
On steep and craggy Rocks she builds her Nest,
And there in Safety leaves her Young to rest;
While she far off th' unwary Game descries,
And swiftly stoops to seize the trembling Prize:
Then to her Nest conveys the reeking Food,
And with fresh Dainties feasts her little Brood.
She spies from far the Soldiers bloody Toil,
And calls her Fellows to divide the Spoil.
In Troops they meet, and fill the warlike Plain,
Strow'd with fat Kings, and Heaps of Captains slain.
Whose tasteful Blood they suck, then haste away,
And leave to vulgar Birds the courser Prey.

How long wilt thou refuse to bow before
These strong Convictions of Almighty Power?
How long wilt thou my Providence arraign
Of blind Injustice? Wilt thou still maintain
Thy Cause to my Dishonour? He that durst
Presume so high, should solve these Problems first.

Th' Almighty spoke. And Job, whose painful Breast
With Shame and pious Horror was distrest,

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A while stood trembling, and no Answer made,
At last he bow'd his Head, and meekly said;

LORD, I am vile, I know not what to say.
I have offended, and for Mercy pray.
My too bold Tongue I now condemn, nor shall
Such Language from my Lips hereafter fall.
Once I have spoke, yea twice: But now no more
Will I proceed, but silently adore
Thy Majesty, which I contemn'd before.

Then from the Whirlwind Heav'ns high Monarch spoke
A second time; and frighted Nature shook,
Unable to sustain the mighty Word
Of her Creator, and immortal LORD.

Is then thy Courage lost? How oft hast thou
Challeng'd thy Maker to dispute? And now
Wilt thou decline the Combat? Rise and stand
To answer what I further shall demand.

Wilt thou suspect my Care of Humankind,
Whom all the World does so indulgent find?
And must my Honour fall, that thou may'st raise
Out of its Dust, a Temple to thy Praise?

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Hast thou an Arm of Length and Force Divine?
Or can'st thou Thunder with a Voice like Mine?
Then deck thy Head with Majesty and Light,
And arm thy Breast with high resistless Might.
Let all that hate thee feel thy angry Rod,
Abase the Proud, and shew thy self a GOD.
Exert thy Sov'reign Pow'r; make all unjust
And haughty Sinners bow, and lick the Dust.
Blast all their Hopes, and cast their Glory down
With one grave Look, or with a single Frown.
Then will I freely grant that thou art meet
To sit with Me, a Partner on my Seat.
Then wilt thou need no Help of mine to stand,
But owe thy Safety to thy own Right Hand.

But first behold two wondrous Works of mine,
In which my Wisdom and high Grandeur shine;
Observe them well, and let them read to thee
A pious Lecture of Humility.

Behold the Behemoth, that famous Beast,
The Work of Hands Divine by all confest.
So vast his Bulk, so terrible his Look,
All that behold him are with Wonder struck.

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Were Flesh his Meat, did he delight in Blood,
Whole Herds would scarce suffice for one Days Food:
But on green Herbs the blameless Monster feeds,
Amongst fat Oxen, in the flow'ry Meads.
Observe his Strength and Stature, Shape and Meen,
And tell me if thou hast his Equal seen.
Standing upright, like some fair Hill he shows,
And seems a moving Castle, when he goes.
Strong are his Loins, and all his Joints around
Are with strong Nerves, like twisted Cables, bound.
His swelling Veins branch out from Head to Feet,
And in his Navel, as their Center, meet.
Like solid Brass his Bones are Firm and Hard,
His Ribs to Iron-Bars may be compar'd.
'Mongst the chief Works of GOD he stands, a Sign
And visible Effect of Pow'r Divine.
Th' Almighty made him with a Word, and when
He will, can speak him into Dust again.
Mean while upon the Mountains he doth stray,
Where all the harmless Creatures round him play,
And he as fearless feeds 'mongst th' Beasts of Prey.
With Drought inflam'd, down to the Floods he makes,
And there his panting Heat at leisure slakes.

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He drinks a flowing River off with Ease,
Whole Jordan hardly can his Thirst appease.
Then underneath the Willows gloomy Shade,
Or in some Bow'r, with Reeds and Osiers made,
He takes his Rest secure; for no Man dares
Beset his Lodging with Nocturnal Snares:
Or if they should presume, he'd soon awake,
And all their vain Attempts in Pieces break.

Observe another Monster, and adore
In him the wise Creator's boundless Power.
The great Leviathan, who proudly reigns,
The Sov'reign Monarch of the liquid Plains.
Let down thy Hook, and try if thou canst bore
His Nostrils through, and draw him to the Shore.
Bring, if thou can'st, his haughty Stomach down
To render, and himself thy Pris'ner own.
Or make him cringe, and beg his Life of thee,
And pay a Ransom for his Liberty.
Or, like a Sparrow with a Thred confin'd
For Childrens Play, wilt thou the Captive bind
In cruel Strings, restrain'd from doing Hurt,
And keep him tame to make thy Maidens Sport?

127

Invite thy Friends to eat him; let them all
Meet at a noble Banquet in thy Hall.
But if thou rather be in Love with Gold,
He'll make thee Rich, if to the Merchant sold.
Or, 'tis in vain to harbour such a Thought;
He scorns thy weak Attempts, nor will be caught.
So firm his Neck, so wond'ous hard his Skin.
The sharpest Darts can make no Wound therein.
Direct thy strongest Spear against his Head,
'Twill fly in Pieces, like a slender Reed.
Who then is able in my Sight to stand,
Who have this dreadful Monster at Command,
Obsequious to my Voice, and gentle to my Hand?
Who has oblig'd me first, and frankly laid
A Debt of Thanks upon Me to be paid?
Who gave Me ought, since all belongs to Me
Upon the solid Earth, within the moving Sea?

Who can describe his goodly Parts, or tell
What Wonders in this huge Sea-Giant dwell?
His gaping Jaws are like the Gates of Death,
And in his Mouth are seen long Rows of frightful Teeth.

128

His Scales are like a broad and burnish'd Shield,
Born by some valiant Knight into the Field.
So closely wrought, that no thin Air can steal
Between the Joynts, or break the binding Seal.
Proud of this Armour, he defies his Foes,
And boldly does his Side to their vain Rage expose.
His Neezings force a sparkling Light, and out
Of his wide Nostrils lofty Torrents spout.
His flaming Eyes are like the Morning-Ray,
That calls the Sun up, and proclaims the Day.
His fiery Breath would kindle Coals, and from
His Mouth hot Flames, as from a Furnace, come.

Fond of his Strength and Courage, he performs
Strange Wonders i' the Deep, and plays with angry Storms.
Above the Waves he rises, to survey
The Warlike Fleets, and looks as big as They.
He rouls along; th' affrighted Sailors cry:
Their stout Hearts fail, and they expect to Die.
For well they know Resistance is but vain,
Wing'd Arrows and drawn Swords he does disdain.
At Brass and Iron Weapons he does laugh,
And values Darts and Stones, as flying Chaff.

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The pressing Waves from his broad Sides he shoves,
And thro' the Seas, a floating Island, moves.
Behind him shines a Path, and all around
The Ocean's Head with Hoariness is crown'd.
In all the World, thou canst not find his Peer,
So great, so proud, so stout, and void of Fear.
Above the foaming Billows he does ride,
And reigns a Tyrant o'er the Sons of Pride.

Th' Almighty spoke. And now his Servant's Heart
Was deeply wounded with Repenting Smart.
His Eyes were open'd to discern his Pride,
Presumption, Haste, and all his Sins beside
Then on the naked Floor he prostrate laid
His Body down, and thus he humbly pray'd.

LORD, I submit, With Meekness I adore
Thy Sov'reign Wisdom, and Almighty Pow'r.
Justice and Truth do both to Thee belong:
And I, in standing out, have done thy Patience wrong.
Thy Judgments I revere, and do approve
Thy wond'rous Goodness and Paternal Love:
My Folly I confess, and want of Sense,
In judging rashly of thy Providence:

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Thy Truth a Mountain is, thy Love a Sea;
The First too high, too Deep the Last for me
To comprehend: And therefore now no more
Will I dispute, but humbly fall before
Thy sacred Feet, and there will prostrate lie,
Till thou hast pardon'd mine Iniquity.
Instruct me how to know my self and Thee;
Thee to be Wise and Great, and vile and foolish me.
Much I had heard before: But now mine Eye
Hath plainly seen thine awful Majesty.
LORD, I abhor my self, and full of Grief,
My Sins acknowledge, and invoke Relief.
In Dust and Ashes I repent, and from
Thy gracious Lips implore a favourable Doom.

Thus pray'd the Saint. And now his gentle GOD
Was Reconcil'd, and threw away his Rod.
Firm Faith and true Repentance Heav'n command,
And humble Pray'r disarms th' Almighty's Hand.
He could no longer Frown, no longer show
An angry Face, nor Personate the Foe.
He now resolves to put a joyful End
T'his Servant's Labours, and become his Friend;

131

And, since so well he had perform'd his Part,
To crown his Champion's Head, and chear his Heart.

But first Job's unkind Friends in Hand He took,
And thus to Eliphaz in Anger spoke.

Thou and thy two Companions have incur'd
My just Displeasure, and my Fury stir'd.
For with fallacious Words you have abus'd
My Judgments, and unjustly Job accus'd;
My Servant, who amidst that dismal Night
Of Sorrows which sometimes o'erwhelm'd the Light
Of Grace and Knowledge in his Soul, that he
My Wisdom, Truth and Goodness scarce could see,
Has yet my Cause defended well, and won
More Praise, than Thou and both thy Friends have done.
Repent ye then, and to my Servant go,
Confess your rash Offence; and take with you
Seven Bullocks, and as many spotless Rams,
To be consum'd, and burnt in hallow'd Flames.
Him I have made my Priest; and for his Sake
You of my Grace and Mercy may partake.
His Sacrifice I will accept, and when
He prays for you, forgive your heinous Sin.

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You have betray'd my right'ous Cause, and by
His Intercession must Escape, or Die.

He ceas'd. And Eliphaz submitted Straight,
And with his Friends on GOD's High-Priest did wait.
Sev'n Bullocks & sev'n Rams with them they brought,
And with submissive Vows his Favour sought.

Then Job arose and sanctify'd the Ground,
Remov'd all Filth, and sprinkled Water round.
Of chosen Stones an Altar next he built,
GOD's Wrath t'appease, and expiate their Guilt.
The Off'rings and the Wood in Order laid,
The Saint kneel'd down, and thus devoutly pray'd.

Almighty GOD, who dost thy Wrath restrain,
And giv'st us less than we deserve of Pain.
Whose Judgments are a deep Abyss, and must,
Tho' sometimes dark, be still acknowledg'd Just.
We've greatly sinn'd, and if Thou should'st proceed
In Chastisement, we must approve thy Deed.
We do not hide our Errors, but confess
We all have done exceedingly amiss.
We thought Thee like our selves, and measur'd thine
Unbyass'd Goodness by our crooked Line.

133

Pardon my Friends, O LORD, and pardon me,
Who grieve and blush to have offended Thee.
Return, O LORD, return, and Pity take
On us, thy Servants, for thy Mercy's Sake.

Scarce had he finish'd, when behold from Heav'n,
A certain Sign of kind Acceptance giv'n,
The Sky grew clear; there shone a perfect Day,
And Light Divine chas'd all their Fears away.
A glorious Flame, bright as the Morning-Sun,
From Heav'n's high Court came sliding swiftly down,
From Heav'n it swiftly came, and in their Sight
Upon the sacred Altar did alight,
The Victims it consum'd, and to the Skies
The hallow'd Smoke in curling Clouds did rise.
A sweet Perfume the well-pleas'd GOD-head smelt,
And tender Pity did his Bowels melt.
And, lo! His sacred Voice was heard aloft,
Not dreadful as before, but kind and soft.
As, when in After-times high Heav'n decreed
To save lost Mankind, by the promis'd Seed,
On Jordan's flow'ry Banks the Son of GOD
Was Own'd, Commended, and Proclaim'd aloud:

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Such was the Voice, and so Divinely sweet,
And thus it did GOD's faithful Servant greet.

Thy Off'ring I accept; thy Pray'rs are heard,
And these thy Friends, at thy Request, are spar'd.

But Thou, O wond'rous Man, of GOD belov'd,
And in the Day of Trial found approv'd!
Thy Combat's past: Thy Triumph yet remains,
And shall for ever. So high Heav'n ordains.
Thy Suff'rings and thy Wants shall end with Speed,
And Health and Plenty in their Place succeed.
Thy Loss shall be repair'd, and all thy Store
Shall double be to what it was before.
Thy Substance shall abound, and I will bless
Thy Labours with miraculous Encrease.
All they that wond'red at thy lost Estate,
Shall wonder more to see thy happy Fate.
Thy Kindred and deserting Friends shall hear
The joyful Change, and, prest with conscious Fear,
Shall to thy House with Complements resort,
And by rich Presents thy lost Favour court.

Sev'n goodly Sons thou shalt beget, and three
Illustrious Daughters shall be born to Thee.

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Whose charming Beauty shall surpass the best
And fairest Ladies, that adorn the East.
These, with their Brothers, thou shalt high advance
And 'mongst them share thy vast Inheritance.
Succeeding Ages shall exalt thy Name,
And future Prophets sing thy lasting Fame.

Full sev'nscore Summers thou shalt live, and see
Thy Children's Children, and their Progeny,
A num'rous, and well-govern'd Family.
And when thy glorious Course at last is run,
A peaceful Death thy pious Life shall crown.
Well satisfy'd thou shalt from hence retreat,
To a more blessed and eternal Seat.

GOD spoke. And true each Word his Servant found,
Nor fell one Tittle frustrate to the Ground.

Exod 33. 20.

Psal. 29. 9.

Matt. 3. 17.

FINIS.