A paraphrase on the Book of Job As likewise on the Songs of Moses, Deborah, David: On Four Select Psalms: Some Chapters of Isaiah, and the Third Chapter of Habakkuk. By Sir Richard Blackmore |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
Chap. IV.
|
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
|
|
| LIII. |
 |
Chap. IV.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job |  |
Chap. IV.
Then Eliphaz reply'd. To mourn thy Fate,
And with soft Words thy Sorrow to abate
We came, but such Impatience thou hast shown,
And hast on Heav'n such bold Reproaches thrown,
That now instead of yielding kind Relief,
My Language may exasperate thy Grief.
Such is thy Wound, Balm will be us'd in vain;
And if I Lance it, I increase the Pain.
Yet who can hold from speaking to defend
Justice Divine, and guide an Erring Friend?
Oft have thy Words and Wise Instructions made
The Feeble Strong, and giv'n th' Afflicted Aid.
Th' Unfortunate and Wretched taught by Thee,
Reviving, have forgot their Misery.
The Mourners and the Comfortless have found
Thy Words like healing Balsom, ease their Wound.
The most perverse, inexorable Woe,
And sullen Grief thy charming Voice did know.
Drooping Despondency, and deep Despair
Listen'd to Thee, and would thy Councels hear.
But since it is thy Turn to undergo
The Suff'rers Part, ungovern'd Passions show,
How much a lighter Task it is to give
Councel and wise Advice, than to receive.
How easy 'tis to praise, how hard to bear
Th'afflicting Rod, thy wild Complaints declare.
And with soft Words thy Sorrow to abate
We came, but such Impatience thou hast shown,
And hast on Heav'n such bold Reproaches thrown,
That now instead of yielding kind Relief,
My Language may exasperate thy Grief.
Such is thy Wound, Balm will be us'd in vain;
And if I Lance it, I increase the Pain.
Yet who can hold from speaking to defend
Justice Divine, and guide an Erring Friend?
15
The Feeble Strong, and giv'n th' Afflicted Aid.
Th' Unfortunate and Wretched taught by Thee,
Reviving, have forgot their Misery.
The Mourners and the Comfortless have found
Thy Words like healing Balsom, ease their Wound.
The most perverse, inexorable Woe,
And sullen Grief thy charming Voice did know.
Drooping Despondency, and deep Despair
Listen'd to Thee, and would thy Councels hear.
But since it is thy Turn to undergo
The Suff'rers Part, ungovern'd Passions show,
How much a lighter Task it is to give
Councel and wise Advice, than to receive.
How easy 'tis to praise, how hard to bear
Th'afflicting Rod, thy wild Complaints declare.
Impatience under Pain the Spring betrays
Of thy Devotion and Religious Ways.
Affliction has detected thee, and shown
Thou didst not seek Heav'n's Int'rest, but thy own;
For with thy Wealth, thy Piety is gone.
None whose Religion's Pure, and Mind Sincere,
Did e'er such Marks of Heav'n's Displeasure bear.
Heav'n will not let the Righteous sink so low,
In such a vast profound Abyss of Woe.
They are by adverse Providence annoy'd,
Kindly Corrected oft, but not destroy'd.
They bear the Frowns, but not the Wrath of God,
Nor Feel his Vengeance, tho' they do his Rod.
A ruin'd Upright Man was never known,
Never as thou art, perfectly Undone.
He that delights to sow Iniquity,
Shall a sad Harvest of Destruction see.
The Breath of God, like Pestilential Air
Shall blast, and leave him with'ring in Despair.
So a fierce Lyon long inur'd to Spoil,
Shall roar entangled in the Hunter's Toil:
Or else the Bloody Ravager o'erpowr'd
When Old, by Famine's Teeth shall be devour'd.
His rav'ning Whelps shall o'er the Mountains stray,
And perish on the Sands for want of Prey.
Of thy Devotion and Religious Ways.
Affliction has detected thee, and shown
Thou didst not seek Heav'n's Int'rest, but thy own;
For with thy Wealth, thy Piety is gone.
None whose Religion's Pure, and Mind Sincere,
Did e'er such Marks of Heav'n's Displeasure bear.
Heav'n will not let the Righteous sink so low,
In such a vast profound Abyss of Woe.
They are by adverse Providence annoy'd,
Kindly Corrected oft, but not destroy'd.
They bear the Frowns, but not the Wrath of God,
Nor Feel his Vengeance, tho' they do his Rod.
16
Never as thou art, perfectly Undone.
He that delights to sow Iniquity,
Shall a sad Harvest of Destruction see.
The Breath of God, like Pestilential Air
Shall blast, and leave him with'ring in Despair.
So a fierce Lyon long inur'd to Spoil,
Shall roar entangled in the Hunter's Toil:
Or else the Bloody Ravager o'erpowr'd
When Old, by Famine's Teeth shall be devour'd.
His rav'ning Whelps shall o'er the Mountains stray,
And perish on the Sands for want of Prey.
I should be impious, vain and arrogant,
Should I of Heav'nly Correspondence vaunt:
Yet to convince thee of thy Error, hear
The Language of a Heav'nly Messenger.
When Night in Sable Clouds had Nature drest,
And weary Lab'rers sought refreshing Rest;
I had a Vision, which a Sacred Dread
And Reverential Horror in me bred.
The awful Object cloath'd in glorious Air,
Struck thro' my trembling Joynts resistless Fear.
A Heav'nly Spirit pass'd before my Sight;
My Hair with Terror stiffen'd, stood Upright.
Approaching me, the bright Appearance stood,
And I a plain Corporeal Glory view'd:
But in so great Confusion, so much Awe,
That I no Form or Shape distinctly saw.
Then thus th' immortal Stranger silence broke,
And with a still Celestial Accent spoke.
Should I of Heav'nly Correspondence vaunt:
Yet to convince thee of thy Error, hear
The Language of a Heav'nly Messenger.
When Night in Sable Clouds had Nature drest,
And weary Lab'rers sought refreshing Rest;
I had a Vision, which a Sacred Dread
And Reverential Horror in me bred.
The awful Object cloath'd in glorious Air,
Struck thro' my trembling Joynts resistless Fear.
A Heav'nly Spirit pass'd before my Sight;
My Hair with Terror stiffen'd, stood Upright.
Approaching me, the bright Appearance stood,
And I a plain Corporeal Glory view'd:
But in so great Confusion, so much Awe,
That I no Form or Shape distinctly saw.
17
And with a still Celestial Accent spoke.
Shall mortal Man than God more Righteous be?
Shall Man's out-do his Maker's Purity?
Full Confidence ev'n in the Godlike Race
Of Seraphims th' Almighty cannot place.
He does Arch-Angels for their Folly blame,
Who bow their conscious Heads, and blush for shame.
And shall a Man his Innocence defend?
With his great Maker shall a Man contend?
A worthless Wight that triumphs for a Day,
Whose Habitation is a House of Clay.
Whose Fort of Life is founded in the Dust
Which quickly falls, and disappoints his Trust,
Tho' but a gnawing Worm the Work assails,
Or but a silly Moth the Fabrick scales.
Each hour the sap'd Foundation feels decay,
And Life ev'n in its blooming fades away,
Made to its own devouring Flame a Prey.
So fast Men perish, that the common sight
No more does wonder, or regard excite.
On Power and Wealth in vain for aid they cry,
For as they liv'd, they in their Folly dye.
Therefore, O Job, thy rash Discourse correct,
No more, poor Mortal, on thy God reflect.
Shall Man's out-do his Maker's Purity?
Full Confidence ev'n in the Godlike Race
Of Seraphims th' Almighty cannot place.
He does Arch-Angels for their Folly blame,
Who bow their conscious Heads, and blush for shame.
And shall a Man his Innocence defend?
With his great Maker shall a Man contend?
A worthless Wight that triumphs for a Day,
Whose Habitation is a House of Clay.
Whose Fort of Life is founded in the Dust
Which quickly falls, and disappoints his Trust,
Tho' but a gnawing Worm the Work assails,
Or but a silly Moth the Fabrick scales.
Each hour the sap'd Foundation feels decay,
And Life ev'n in its blooming fades away,
Made to its own devouring Flame a Prey.
So fast Men perish, that the common sight
No more does wonder, or regard excite.
On Power and Wealth in vain for aid they cry,
For as they liv'd, they in their Folly dye.
Therefore, O Job, thy rash Discourse correct,
No more, poor Mortal, on thy God reflect.
|
Chap. IV.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job | |