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 |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| 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. |
Ch. XXXI.
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| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
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| LIII. |
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Ch. XXXI.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job |  |
Ch. XXXI.
Yet tho' my Wants and Pains are so extream,
None can my Life of heinous Sin condemn.
So far from that, I have with care supprest
Sin's first Conception strugling in my Breast.
I did the Spark, as soon as kindled, tame,
Before it blaz'd, and spread resistless Flame.
I with my Eyes, whose Objects oft inspire
The Heart with wild, unquenchable Desire,
A sacred League did make, that they should ne'er
Look on forbidden Fruit, tho' wondrous fair.
That they on Beauty should not gazing stay,
Nor on th' enchanting Brink of Ruin play.
Besides my inward Thoughts I did restrain,
They ne'er did wanton Objects entertain.
My modest Fancy ne'er had leave to rove,
To fetch in Fuel for unlawful Love.
I knew what Portion did th' Unclean attend,
What Vengeance on them would from Heav'n descend,
And of their sweet Delights I saw the bitter End.
Distress and Ruin on the Wicked wait,
This is their sad, inevitable Fate.
Does not th' Almighty with his watchful Eye
Mark all my Steps, and all my Paths descry?
If I unrighteous ways did e'er applaud,
If I grew rich by Violence or Fraud,
Let Heav'n my Head with heavy Vengeance load.
Me in a Ballance weigh, that God may see
Convincing Proof of my Integrity.
If my unrighteous Feet did from the way
Of sacred Truth and Justice ever stray;
If ever tempted by a greedy Eye
In all the Walks of Life I trod awry;
Or if Clandestine Bribes, or sordid gain
My avaricious Hand did ever stain;
Then let Invaders o'er my Fences leap,
And when I sow, let them the Harvest reap.
Let the rich Offspring which my Fields produce,
By Force be taken for another's use.
If any Woman's Charms did ever move
My Heart to entertain Adulterous Love;
If e'er I skulk'd before my Neighbour's Gate,
Or for unchast Embraces lay in wait:
Then make my Wife a Captive, or by Night
Let a proud Stranger rob me of my Right.
For of Adult'ry I will e'er assert,
Death is the due Commensurate desert.
It is a secret and consuming Fire,
That would devour the Substance I acquire.
None can my Life of heinous Sin condemn.
So far from that, I have with care supprest
Sin's first Conception strugling in my Breast.
I did the Spark, as soon as kindled, tame,
Before it blaz'd, and spread resistless Flame.
I with my Eyes, whose Objects oft inspire
The Heart with wild, unquenchable Desire,
A sacred League did make, that they should ne'er
Look on forbidden Fruit, tho' wondrous fair.
That they on Beauty should not gazing stay,
Nor on th' enchanting Brink of Ruin play.
Besides my inward Thoughts I did restrain,
They ne'er did wanton Objects entertain.
My modest Fancy ne'er had leave to rove,
To fetch in Fuel for unlawful Love.
I knew what Portion did th' Unclean attend,
What Vengeance on them would from Heav'n descend,
And of their sweet Delights I saw the bitter End.
Distress and Ruin on the Wicked wait,
This is their sad, inevitable Fate.
Does not th' Almighty with his watchful Eye
Mark all my Steps, and all my Paths descry?
132
If I grew rich by Violence or Fraud,
Let Heav'n my Head with heavy Vengeance load.
Me in a Ballance weigh, that God may see
Convincing Proof of my Integrity.
If my unrighteous Feet did from the way
Of sacred Truth and Justice ever stray;
If ever tempted by a greedy Eye
In all the Walks of Life I trod awry;
Or if Clandestine Bribes, or sordid gain
My avaricious Hand did ever stain;
Then let Invaders o'er my Fences leap,
And when I sow, let them the Harvest reap.
Let the rich Offspring which my Fields produce,
By Force be taken for another's use.
If any Woman's Charms did ever move
My Heart to entertain Adulterous Love;
If e'er I skulk'd before my Neighbour's Gate,
Or for unchast Embraces lay in wait:
Then make my Wife a Captive, or by Night
Let a proud Stranger rob me of my Right.
For of Adult'ry I will e'er assert,
Death is the due Commensurate desert.
It is a secret and consuming Fire,
That would devour the Substance I acquire.
Of all my numerous Servants none complain'd
That I opprest them, or their Right detain'd.
I ever gave them, when I heard their Cause,
Against my self, th'advantage of the Laws.
Else if I stood before the Throne on high
Of God my Heav'nly Master, what reply,
To justify my Conduct, could I make?
To scape his Wrath, what method could I take?
Did not his Hand me and my Servant Frame?
Is not the Clay alike, the Work the same?
We both alike Divine Impressions bear,
And both alike our Maker's Image wear.
If then, not for his own, yet I should take
Compassion on him, for his Maker's sake.
If Poor Mens Crys did not with me prevail,
If e'er I caus'd the Widows Hopes to fail;
If I alone devour'd Luxurious Meat,
And did not make the hungry Orphans eat;
Poor Orphans, who ev'n as my Children, were
Up from my Infancy my tender care.
If e'er I saw poor Wretches naked lye,
And did for want of Cloathing, let them dye;
If their lean Loyns warm'd with my woolly Fleece,
Did not my Bounty and Compassion bless;
If I against an Orphan rais'd my hand,
When I had power the Judges to command;
Then let my Arm (for Punishment I call)
Rot from the Joynt, and from my Shoulder fall.
For I the sure and swift Destruction fear'd,
Which the great Judge for Rebels has prepar'd;
His awful Power and Glory me deter'd.
I never plac'd the Strength of my Abode
In high-rais'd Works, or made my Gold my God.
Ne'er my increasing Wealth and prosp'rous Fate,
Did Pride, or unbecoming Joy create.
When I beheld the glorious Sun arise,
And saw the Moon's full Face adorn the Skies;
My yielding Heart was ne'er entic'd away,
Nor did I kiss my hand, and sacred Worship pay.
If I had once the Creature thus ador'd,
Abjur'd my Faith, renounc'd my Soveraign Lord,
I should have justly felt the Judge's Sword.
I was so little to Revenge inclin'd,
I wish'd my Foe no mischief in my Mind.
No secret Pleasure felt, or inward Joy,
When God was pleas'd the Rebel to destroy.
I ne'er design'd him Harm, ne'er curst his Name,
Nor e'er insulted, when his Ruin came.
Tho' he express'd such Cruelty and Spite,
And so provok'd me in my Servants sight;
That they enrag'd, did all demand his Blood,
And would have Eat his very Flesh for Food.
I to my House the Stranger did invite,
Who in the Streets must else have past the Night.
The weary Trav'ller was my welcom Guest;
I cheer'd his Heart with Wine, his Limbs with Oyl and Rest.
I ne'er with anxious care supprest my Sin,
Nor, as the Hypocrite, conceal'd my fault within.
I small concern for Man's Displeasure shew'd,
Nor swerv'd from Truth to court the Multitude.
In a just Cause I boldly did appear,
My Silence ne'er betray'd my secret Fear.
O, that the strictest Scrutiny were made,
That all my Scenes of Life were open laid.
Let my Accusers my Indictment draw,
And prosecute their Charge by course of Law:
Then by th' Almighty let my Cause be heard,
And let me be condemn'd, if I have err'd.
My written Process would my Pride create,
As much as Royal Crowns, or Robes of State.
I would as boldly to my Tryal go,
As Valiant Gen'rals march to meet the Foe.
If ever my unpurchas'd Lands complain'd,
That I by Force or Fraud Possession gain'd:
If ever I another's Acres till'd,
Ever my Houses with his Harvest fill'd,
Or to possess his Goods my Neighbour kill'd:
Let Thistles fill my Fields, instead of Wheat,
And all my Labour and my Hopes defeat.
Instead of Barley, let my Land produce
Cockle of none, or Weeds of noxious use.
That I opprest them, or their Right detain'd.
I ever gave them, when I heard their Cause,
Against my self, th'advantage of the Laws.
133
Of God my Heav'nly Master, what reply,
To justify my Conduct, could I make?
To scape his Wrath, what method could I take?
Did not his Hand me and my Servant Frame?
Is not the Clay alike, the Work the same?
We both alike Divine Impressions bear,
And both alike our Maker's Image wear.
If then, not for his own, yet I should take
Compassion on him, for his Maker's sake.
If Poor Mens Crys did not with me prevail,
If e'er I caus'd the Widows Hopes to fail;
If I alone devour'd Luxurious Meat,
And did not make the hungry Orphans eat;
Poor Orphans, who ev'n as my Children, were
Up from my Infancy my tender care.
If e'er I saw poor Wretches naked lye,
And did for want of Cloathing, let them dye;
If their lean Loyns warm'd with my woolly Fleece,
Did not my Bounty and Compassion bless;
If I against an Orphan rais'd my hand,
When I had power the Judges to command;
Then let my Arm (for Punishment I call)
Rot from the Joynt, and from my Shoulder fall.
For I the sure and swift Destruction fear'd,
Which the great Judge for Rebels has prepar'd;
His awful Power and Glory me deter'd.
I never plac'd the Strength of my Abode
In high-rais'd Works, or made my Gold my God.
134
Did Pride, or unbecoming Joy create.
When I beheld the glorious Sun arise,
And saw the Moon's full Face adorn the Skies;
My yielding Heart was ne'er entic'd away,
Nor did I kiss my hand, and sacred Worship pay.
If I had once the Creature thus ador'd,
Abjur'd my Faith, renounc'd my Soveraign Lord,
I should have justly felt the Judge's Sword.
I was so little to Revenge inclin'd,
I wish'd my Foe no mischief in my Mind.
No secret Pleasure felt, or inward Joy,
When God was pleas'd the Rebel to destroy.
I ne'er design'd him Harm, ne'er curst his Name,
Nor e'er insulted, when his Ruin came.
Tho' he express'd such Cruelty and Spite,
And so provok'd me in my Servants sight;
That they enrag'd, did all demand his Blood,
And would have Eat his very Flesh for Food.
I to my House the Stranger did invite,
Who in the Streets must else have past the Night.
The weary Trav'ller was my welcom Guest;
I cheer'd his Heart with Wine, his Limbs with Oyl and Rest.
I ne'er with anxious care supprest my Sin,
Nor, as the Hypocrite, conceal'd my fault within.
I small concern for Man's Displeasure shew'd,
Nor swerv'd from Truth to court the Multitude.
In a just Cause I boldly did appear,
My Silence ne'er betray'd my secret Fear.
135
That all my Scenes of Life were open laid.
Let my Accusers my Indictment draw,
And prosecute their Charge by course of Law:
Then by th' Almighty let my Cause be heard,
And let me be condemn'd, if I have err'd.
My written Process would my Pride create,
As much as Royal Crowns, or Robes of State.
I would as boldly to my Tryal go,
As Valiant Gen'rals march to meet the Foe.
If ever my unpurchas'd Lands complain'd,
That I by Force or Fraud Possession gain'd:
If ever I another's Acres till'd,
Ever my Houses with his Harvest fill'd,
Or to possess his Goods my Neighbour kill'd:
Let Thistles fill my Fields, instead of Wheat,
And all my Labour and my Hopes defeat.
Instead of Barley, let my Land produce
Cockle of none, or Weeds of noxious use.
|
Ch. XXXI.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job | |