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. |
| 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. | C. XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
|
|
| LIII. |
 | C. XXXVII. A paraphrase on the Book of Job |  |
C. XXXVII.
When Clouds with murm'ring Thunder laden roll,
The dreadful Noise affrights my trembling Soul.
A noise, at which pale Atheists are distrest,
And feel a shiv'ring Horror in their Breast.
A noise which makes the Righteous Man revere,
Th' Almighty's Judgments with a pious Fear.
Attend, I pray, to this Tempestuous sound,
Which breaking from the Clouds, does all around
Diffuse and propagate its Force, and you
Will the like Terror and Confusion shew.
This dreadful Voice which Heav'n's high Arches shakes,
Thro' all the Airy Realms its progress makes.
Th' Almighty to the World's remotest Ends,
His Red-wing'd Lightning always with it sends.
First from the Clouds the flashing Flames appear,
Then fearful Claps of Thunder strike the Ear.
The noise augments, till Storms of Rain or Hail
Descending thro' the Air, the Earth assail.
He that his Thunder with such Force projects,
Produces other wonderful Effects;
By which the greatest Wits confounded, own
Their Reason and Philosophy outdone.
He moulds, and whitens in the Air the Snow,
And with its Fleeces spreads the Earth below.
He bids the Rain descend in gentle Showers,
Or from the Clouds vast Spouts of Water pours.
Which interrupt the Labour of the Day,
And drives th' unwilling Husbandman away
From all his rural toyl, and makes him know,
That God the Seasons governs here below.
The Beasts themselves these stormy Seasons chase
From the wide Desart, to their lurking Place.
They slumb'ring in their Dens are forc'd to stay,
And in their Sleep pursue, and tear their Prey.
The dreadful Noise affrights my trembling Soul.
A noise, at which pale Atheists are distrest,
And feel a shiv'ring Horror in their Breast.
A noise which makes the Righteous Man revere,
Th' Almighty's Judgments with a pious Fear.
Attend, I pray, to this Tempestuous sound,
Which breaking from the Clouds, does all around
Diffuse and propagate its Force, and you
Will the like Terror and Confusion shew.
This dreadful Voice which Heav'n's high Arches shakes,
Thro' all the Airy Realms its progress makes.
Th' Almighty to the World's remotest Ends,
His Red-wing'd Lightning always with it sends.
First from the Clouds the flashing Flames appear,
Then fearful Claps of Thunder strike the Ear.
The noise augments, till Storms of Rain or Hail
Descending thro' the Air, the Earth assail.
He that his Thunder with such Force projects,
Produces other wonderful Effects;
160
Their Reason and Philosophy outdone.
He moulds, and whitens in the Air the Snow,
And with its Fleeces spreads the Earth below.
He bids the Rain descend in gentle Showers,
Or from the Clouds vast Spouts of Water pours.
Which interrupt the Labour of the Day,
And drives th' unwilling Husbandman away
From all his rural toyl, and makes him know,
That God the Seasons governs here below.
The Beasts themselves these stormy Seasons chase
From the wide Desart, to their lurking Place.
They slumb'ring in their Dens are forc'd to stay,
And in their Sleep pursue, and tear their Prey.
Mark from the Southern Regions of the Sky,
The Winds that blow, are turbulent and high.
These on their Wings do Foreign Tempests bear,
And charg'd with Seeds of Storms, and Stores of War,
Unload conflicting Meteors in the Air.
Then in the Northern quarter of the Skys,
By his Direction adverse Winds arise,
Which to remove the former are employ'd,
To purify and clear th' Aerial Void.
He by the blasts of this restringent Wind,
Does the Cold Globe in Crystal Fetters bind.
To Glass they turn the Lakes on which they blow,
Benumb the Floods, and teach them not to flow.
He spends in Dew the Evening Mists, that stay
And lag below, drawn by a fainter Ray,
Spent with th' exhaling labour of the Day.
Sometimes the Lord of Nature in the Air
Hangs evening Clouds, his Sable Canvas, where
His Pencil dipt in Heav'nly Colours, made
Of intercepted Sunbeams mixt with Shade,
Of temper'd Ether, and refracted Light,
Paints his fair Rainbow, charming to the Sight.
These Meteors are directed by his Hand,
And move, and take their Course by his Command.
So do the rest that this low Region fill;
And on the Earth they execute his Will.
Sometimes a sinful Nation to destroy:
He Pestilential Vapours does employ.
Which their Clandestine poison'd Darts prepare,
And with Corruption arm th' infected Air.
O'er all the Land their Forces they diffuse,
And panting Thirst, and purple Plagues produce.
But if he's pleas'd his Bounty to express,
And will with Plenty pious Nations bless:
Then fruitful Dews descend at his Command,
And healthful Seasons make a happy Land.
The Winds that blow, are turbulent and high.
These on their Wings do Foreign Tempests bear,
And charg'd with Seeds of Storms, and Stores of War,
Unload conflicting Meteors in the Air.
Then in the Northern quarter of the Skys,
By his Direction adverse Winds arise,
Which to remove the former are employ'd,
To purify and clear th' Aerial Void.
He by the blasts of this restringent Wind,
Does the Cold Globe in Crystal Fetters bind.
To Glass they turn the Lakes on which they blow,
Benumb the Floods, and teach them not to flow.
161
And lag below, drawn by a fainter Ray,
Spent with th' exhaling labour of the Day.
Sometimes the Lord of Nature in the Air
Hangs evening Clouds, his Sable Canvas, where
His Pencil dipt in Heav'nly Colours, made
Of intercepted Sunbeams mixt with Shade,
Of temper'd Ether, and refracted Light,
Paints his fair Rainbow, charming to the Sight.
These Meteors are directed by his Hand,
And move, and take their Course by his Command.
So do the rest that this low Region fill;
And on the Earth they execute his Will.
Sometimes a sinful Nation to destroy:
He Pestilential Vapours does employ.
Which their Clandestine poison'd Darts prepare,
And with Corruption arm th' infected Air.
O'er all the Land their Forces they diffuse,
And panting Thirst, and purple Plagues produce.
But if he's pleas'd his Bounty to express,
And will with Plenty pious Nations bless:
Then fruitful Dews descend at his Command,
And healthful Seasons make a happy Land.
O Job, Attention give, no more object,
To God, no more on Providence reflect.
Rather his Counsels and his Rule adore,
Admire his Works, and Reverence his Power.
Canst thou declare what Orders from above
Will come, by which these Meteors are to move?
Canst thou by all thy Skill so much as know,
When in the Clouds he'll draw his beauteous Bow?
Canst thou, presumptuous Man, the way declare,
How pondrous Clouds hang ballanc'd in the Air?
Canst thou expose such Secrets to the Light,
The wondrous Works of Wisdom Infinite?
Whence come the soultry Gleams and scorching Heat,
When we beneath our lightest Garments sweat?
Why should the Southern Breezes calm the Floods,
Make soft the Air, and dress in Green the Woods?
How should they breath thro' all the heaving Soil
Prolific Warmth, to bless the Labourer's toil,
When from the South such furious Whirlwinds rise,
And stormy Clouds pollute and vex the Skys.
But now, O Job, proceed, and raise thy thought
To Objects nobler, higher, more remote.
Wert thou in Council with th' Almighty joyn'd,
When he the Model of the Heav'n's design'd?
To fashion them didst thou Assistance give?
What Ornament, what Strength didst thou contrive?
When he extended o'er the empty Space
His high Pavilion, where was then thy Place?
Didst thou one end of the wide Curtain hold,
And help the Bales of Ether to unfold;
Tell which Cerulean Pile was by thy hands unroll'd?
Tho' this transparent, Starry Firmament
Is so sublime, and of such vast Extent,
That it confounds our weak and feeble Sight,
Yet is it firm, as well as clear and bright.
If thou hast Skill, instruct us what to say
Of Power Divine, and we'll Attention pay.
We own, when e'er our Minds attempt to climb
To Objects so unequal, so sublime;
Our baffled Thoughts can no Discovery boast,
But are Confounded, and in Wonder lost.
What words that suit the Case can I express?
Or what to God, worthy of God, address?
He that of God would a Description give,
Will with a Task insuperable strive.
Let him his Reason stretch, he'll quickly find,
The mighty Object will distract his Mind.
The steddiest Head will turn at such a height,
Who can undazled, gaze at uncreated Light?
The hardy Men that make the bold Essay,
Immensity of Being to survey,
Are lost in that unsearchable Abyss,
In Boundless Power, and vast, unmeasur'd Bliss.
Giddy with Splendour, and excess of Day,
They in a Maze of Glory miss their way.
For Men alass, their Eyes so feeble are,
Cannot the Sun's Meridian Lustre bear,
When Northern Winds have swept and clear'd the Air.
Then sure with Terror seiz'd, they should decline
The awful Sight of Majesty Divine.
That Majesty from which we should retire,
And at a distance humbly should admire.
And not too far into its Nature pry,
Or gaze upon it with a curious Eye.
For after all th' Attempts we make, we find
Our Reason cannot grasp th' Eternal Mind.
So Boundless, so Transcendent is his Might,
So Wise his Conduct, his Decrees so right,
That no Man should debate th' Almighty's Deeds,
Or ask a Reason why he thus proceeds.
If any do, God who does all surmount
As Soveraign Lord, need give them no account.
And this should humble Admiration draw
From mortal Man, and make him stand in Awe.
This should their peevish Arguments confute,
And teach them to Adore, and not dispute.
For God regards the Meek, but does despise
The proud conceited Man, and in his Eyes
All Men are Fools, who in their own are Wise.
To God, no more on Providence reflect.
Rather his Counsels and his Rule adore,
Admire his Works, and Reverence his Power.
Canst thou declare what Orders from above
Will come, by which these Meteors are to move?
162
When in the Clouds he'll draw his beauteous Bow?
Canst thou, presumptuous Man, the way declare,
How pondrous Clouds hang ballanc'd in the Air?
Canst thou expose such Secrets to the Light,
The wondrous Works of Wisdom Infinite?
Whence come the soultry Gleams and scorching Heat,
When we beneath our lightest Garments sweat?
Why should the Southern Breezes calm the Floods,
Make soft the Air, and dress in Green the Woods?
How should they breath thro' all the heaving Soil
Prolific Warmth, to bless the Labourer's toil,
When from the South such furious Whirlwinds rise,
And stormy Clouds pollute and vex the Skys.
But now, O Job, proceed, and raise thy thought
To Objects nobler, higher, more remote.
Wert thou in Council with th' Almighty joyn'd,
When he the Model of the Heav'n's design'd?
To fashion them didst thou Assistance give?
What Ornament, what Strength didst thou contrive?
When he extended o'er the empty Space
His high Pavilion, where was then thy Place?
Didst thou one end of the wide Curtain hold,
And help the Bales of Ether to unfold;
Tell which Cerulean Pile was by thy hands unroll'd?
Tho' this transparent, Starry Firmament
Is so sublime, and of such vast Extent,
That it confounds our weak and feeble Sight,
Yet is it firm, as well as clear and bright.
163
Of Power Divine, and we'll Attention pay.
We own, when e'er our Minds attempt to climb
To Objects so unequal, so sublime;
Our baffled Thoughts can no Discovery boast,
But are Confounded, and in Wonder lost.
What words that suit the Case can I express?
Or what to God, worthy of God, address?
He that of God would a Description give,
Will with a Task insuperable strive.
Let him his Reason stretch, he'll quickly find,
The mighty Object will distract his Mind.
The steddiest Head will turn at such a height,
Who can undazled, gaze at uncreated Light?
The hardy Men that make the bold Essay,
Immensity of Being to survey,
Are lost in that unsearchable Abyss,
In Boundless Power, and vast, unmeasur'd Bliss.
Giddy with Splendour, and excess of Day,
They in a Maze of Glory miss their way.
For Men alass, their Eyes so feeble are,
Cannot the Sun's Meridian Lustre bear,
When Northern Winds have swept and clear'd the Air.
Then sure with Terror seiz'd, they should decline
The awful Sight of Majesty Divine.
That Majesty from which we should retire,
And at a distance humbly should admire.
And not too far into its Nature pry,
Or gaze upon it with a curious Eye.
164
Our Reason cannot grasp th' Eternal Mind.
So Boundless, so Transcendent is his Might,
So Wise his Conduct, his Decrees so right,
That no Man should debate th' Almighty's Deeds,
Or ask a Reason why he thus proceeds.
If any do, God who does all surmount
As Soveraign Lord, need give them no account.
And this should humble Admiration draw
From mortal Man, and make him stand in Awe.
This should their peevish Arguments confute,
And teach them to Adore, and not dispute.
For God regards the Meek, but does despise
The proud conceited Man, and in his Eyes
All Men are Fools, who in their own are Wise.
| C. XXXVII. A paraphrase on the Book of Job | |