The history of The Old Testament In verse With One Hundred and Eighty sculptures: In Two Volumes. Vol. I. From the Creation to the Revolt of the Ten Tribes from the House of David. Vol. II. From that Revolt to the End of the Prophets. Written by Samuel Wesley ... The Cuts done by J. Sturt |
 | I, II. |
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| LXXX. |
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| LXXXVII. |
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| XCI. |
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| C. |
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| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
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| CXXXIX. |
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| CLXV. |
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| CLXX. |
| CLXXI. |
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| CLXXV. |
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| CLXXVII. |
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| CLXXIX. |
| CLXXX. |
| CLXXXI. |
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| CCXI. |
| CCXII. |
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| CCXV. |
| CCXVI. |
| CCXVII. |
| CCXVIII. |
| CCXIX. |
| CCXX. |
| CCXXI. |
| CCXXII. | CCXXII. Job, Chap. II. from Ver. 1. to Ver. 11. |
| CCXXIII. |
| CCXXIV. |
| CCXXV. |
| CCXXVI. |
| CCXXVII. |
| CCXXVIII. |
| CCXXIX. |
| CCXXX. |
| CCXXXI. |
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| CCLI. |
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 | The history of The Old Testament In verse |  |
518
CCXXII. Job, Chap. II. from Ver. 1. to Ver. 11.
Satan obtains permission to afflict the Person of Job: His Wife reviles him, &c.
Agen, disguis'd, th'Arch-Traitor shoots away,
And scales the Crystal Walls of heavenly Day:
He wanders round the Regions once his own,
And, impudent, advances near the Throne.
That awful Pow'r whose Thunder shakes the Sky,
The former Question asks, and meets the same Reply.
And hast thou now, agen th'Almighty said,
With curious Eyes my Servant Job survey'd;
Sincerely Pious, in his Suff'rings Great,
His Faith and Resignation are compleat;
Tho' thou against him hast employ'd the Pow'r
Which my Commission gave, and still would'st him devour.
When thus th'Artificer of Fraud reply'd,
At Distance only yet has Job been try'd:
Himself is next himself, tho' Friends are near,
Tho' all for Life the Ransom were not dear.
But cou'd I greater Length of Pow'r obtain,
Might I his tender Flesh afflict with Pain;
If then he wou'd not curse thee, curse me more
If possible, than thou: hast done before!
Once more thy own malicious Wish enjoy!
Thou may'st torment, says God, but shalt not him destroy.
And scales the Crystal Walls of heavenly Day:
He wanders round the Regions once his own,
And, impudent, advances near the Throne.
That awful Pow'r whose Thunder shakes the Sky,
The former Question asks, and meets the same Reply.
And hast thou now, agen th'Almighty said,
With curious Eyes my Servant Job survey'd;
Sincerely Pious, in his Suff'rings Great,
His Faith and Resignation are compleat;
Tho' thou against him hast employ'd the Pow'r
Which my Commission gave, and still would'st him devour.
When thus th'Artificer of Fraud reply'd,
At Distance only yet has Job been try'd:
Himself is next himself, tho' Friends are near,
Tho' all for Life the Ransom were not dear.
But cou'd I greater Length of Pow'r obtain,
Might I his tender Flesh afflict with Pain;
If then he wou'd not curse thee, curse me more
If possible, than thou: hast done before!
520
Thou may'st torment, says God, but shalt not him destroy.
Sickning with Light the Tempter speeds away,
And gladly leaves the hostile Realms of Day.
Wrapt in a suffocating Cloud he fled,
And to the suff'ring Saint his Journey sped;
O're waste Arabia, and the torrid Zone,
With those curs'd Regions pleas'd, so like his own:
Sulphureous burning Vapours thence he takes,
And sucks the pois'nous Steams from standing Lakes.
With these his bloated odious Form extends,
These with his own infernal Breath he blends:
When thus prepar'd, he to his Quarry fled,
And pours the mingled Mischief o're his Head;
Whose Scalding Drops with noisom Biles infest
His crusted Skin, and banish Ease and Rest:
From Head to Feet one frightful Ulcer grown,
A Stranger to his Friends, and to himself unknown.
Silent he sits, with Ashes cover'd o're,
And with a Potsheard scrapes the festring Shore.
—Yet have I, cries the Foe, one Torment more:
What neither I my self nor Biles can do,
Shall She alone attempt and conquer too:
—He says, and then his Wife against him plays,
Whose Tongue did soon a louder Tempest raise
Than that which crush'd his Sons—Ah, Wretch! she cries,
With all the Fury in her Voice and Eyes,
Where are thy Pray'rs, and where thy Sacrifice?
Where are thy Sons, and where thy Daughters now?
Go for their Safety, Go and pay thy Vow!
Their hapless Mother's fruitless Pangs and Throes,
My short-liv'd Blessings, my redoubled Woes:
Thou, like thy self, art on the Dunghil plac'd,
With crawling Worms for thy Attendants grac'd:
But no Misfortunes are to JOB severe;
What has a Stock like him, to do, but bear?
I cannot, will not tamely keep the Bounds,
And praise the Pow'r that me unjustly wounds.
To what am I by thy Alliance come?
A Slave, a Vagabond without a Home:
—Thy stupid Piety no more retain,
Nor longer feed thy self with Hopes in vain,
But him that Plagues thee Curse, and End at once thy Pain.
And gladly leaves the hostile Realms of Day.
Wrapt in a suffocating Cloud he fled,
And to the suff'ring Saint his Journey sped;
O're waste Arabia, and the torrid Zone,
With those curs'd Regions pleas'd, so like his own:
Sulphureous burning Vapours thence he takes,
And sucks the pois'nous Steams from standing Lakes.
With these his bloated odious Form extends,
These with his own infernal Breath he blends:
When thus prepar'd, he to his Quarry fled,
And pours the mingled Mischief o're his Head;
Whose Scalding Drops with noisom Biles infest
His crusted Skin, and banish Ease and Rest:
From Head to Feet one frightful Ulcer grown,
A Stranger to his Friends, and to himself unknown.
Silent he sits, with Ashes cover'd o're,
And with a Potsheard scrapes the festring Shore.
—Yet have I, cries the Foe, one Torment more:
What neither I my self nor Biles can do,
Shall She alone attempt and conquer too:
—He says, and then his Wife against him plays,
Whose Tongue did soon a louder Tempest raise
521
With all the Fury in her Voice and Eyes,
Where are thy Pray'rs, and where thy Sacrifice?
Where are thy Sons, and where thy Daughters now?
Go for their Safety, Go and pay thy Vow!
Their hapless Mother's fruitless Pangs and Throes,
My short-liv'd Blessings, my redoubled Woes:
Thou, like thy self, art on the Dunghil plac'd,
With crawling Worms for thy Attendants grac'd:
But no Misfortunes are to JOB severe;
What has a Stock like him, to do, but bear?
I cannot, will not tamely keep the Bounds,
And praise the Pow'r that me unjustly wounds.
To what am I by thy Alliance come?
A Slave, a Vagabond without a Home:
—Thy stupid Piety no more retain,
Nor longer feed thy self with Hopes in vain,
But him that Plagues thee Curse, and End at once thy Pain.
Firmly the Patriarch meets this fiercest Shock,
As Waves are dash'd to foam against a Rock:
He calm returns—Thy Words how fond, how base!
How like the foolish and the impious Race!
Since Good and Ill alike from Heav'n are sent,
Let's thank for both, and go away Content:
As Waves are dash'd to foam against a Rock:
He calm returns—Thy Words how fond, how base!
How like the foolish and the impious Race!
Since Good and Ill alike from Heav'n are sent,
Let's thank for both, and go away Content:
522
Thus far he all impatient Words repress'd,
A rare Example! still Jehovah's Name be bless'd.
A rare Example! still Jehovah's Name be bless'd.
| The history of The Old Testament In verse | |