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. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
Ch. XLI.
|
| XLII. |
|
|
| LIII. |
 |
Ch. XLI.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job |  |
Ch. XLI.
Canst thou stand Angling on the Banks of Nile,
And with thy Bait Leviathan beguile?
Then strike the bearded Iron thro' his Jaw,
And thro' the Flood the flouncing Monster draw?
Hast thou a Line to hold him? canst thou guide,
And play him with thy Rod along the Tyde?
Till spent and tir'd, thou canst his Strength command,
And on the Flaggy Bank the gasping Captive Land?
Will he, like Men o'erwhelm'd in sore distress,
To thee soft Words, and humble Prayers address?
Will he with tender Accents thee entreat,
Thy pity to excite his moan repeat?
Him as a menial Servant wilt thou take?
Wilt thou a solemn Contract with him make?
Will he his Empire o'er the Waters quit?
Will he to serve a Master e'er submit?
Will he a tame Domestic with thee stay,
Fawn on thy Sons, and with thy Daughters play?
Shall the glad Fishermen divide the Spoil,
To recompence their hazard and their toil?
Shall each his Portion to the Market bear,
And to the Merchant sell for Gold his Share?
Canst thou his Head with bearded Spears divide,
Or pierce the scaly Armour of his side?
Suppose that thou hast Courage to assail
The furious Beast, would Spears or Darts prevail?
Shouldst thou with Life escape, his dreadful Rage
Thou wouldst remember, and no more engage.
The Hopes the bravest Warriours entertain,
Of Conq'ring him, presumptuous are and vain.
Would not the boldest Mortal, in despight
Of all his Courage, at the dreadful sight
Of such a Creature, pale with terror stand;
And drop his Weapons from his trembling hand?
Is there a Man so fierce and fearless found,
That dares tho' clad in Steel, approach the ground
Where midst the Reeds the Monster lies at ease,
And will adventure to disturb his Peace?
Is there a Man, that does not Courage lack,
To touch the scaly Coat that cloaths his Back?
The most intrepid Chief, that dares advance
Against the brandish'd Sword, and threat'ning Lance,
With Consternation seiz'd, in haste withdraws,
Far from the reach of his expanded Jaws.
Then canst thou Job, of me be not afraid,
Who the vast Beast, and all his Terrors made?
Whoe'er on me did Obligations lay,
Which by my favours I did ne'er repay?
To clear the Debt can't I Rewards bestow,
Lord of the Worlds above, and this below?
And with thy Bait Leviathan beguile?
Then strike the bearded Iron thro' his Jaw,
And thro' the Flood the flouncing Monster draw?
Hast thou a Line to hold him? canst thou guide,
And play him with thy Rod along the Tyde?
Till spent and tir'd, thou canst his Strength command,
And on the Flaggy Bank the gasping Captive Land?
Will he, like Men o'erwhelm'd in sore distress,
To thee soft Words, and humble Prayers address?
Will he with tender Accents thee entreat,
Thy pity to excite his moan repeat?
180
Wilt thou a solemn Contract with him make?
Will he his Empire o'er the Waters quit?
Will he to serve a Master e'er submit?
Will he a tame Domestic with thee stay,
Fawn on thy Sons, and with thy Daughters play?
Shall the glad Fishermen divide the Spoil,
To recompence their hazard and their toil?
Shall each his Portion to the Market bear,
And to the Merchant sell for Gold his Share?
Canst thou his Head with bearded Spears divide,
Or pierce the scaly Armour of his side?
Suppose that thou hast Courage to assail
The furious Beast, would Spears or Darts prevail?
Shouldst thou with Life escape, his dreadful Rage
Thou wouldst remember, and no more engage.
The Hopes the bravest Warriours entertain,
Of Conq'ring him, presumptuous are and vain.
Would not the boldest Mortal, in despight
Of all his Courage, at the dreadful sight
Of such a Creature, pale with terror stand;
And drop his Weapons from his trembling hand?
Is there a Man so fierce and fearless found,
That dares tho' clad in Steel, approach the ground
Where midst the Reeds the Monster lies at ease,
And will adventure to disturb his Peace?
Is there a Man, that does not Courage lack,
To touch the scaly Coat that cloaths his Back?
The most intrepid Chief, that dares advance
Against the brandish'd Sword, and threat'ning Lance,
181
Far from the reach of his expanded Jaws.
Then canst thou Job, of me be not afraid,
Who the vast Beast, and all his Terrors made?
Whoe'er on me did Obligations lay,
Which by my favours I did ne'er repay?
To clear the Debt can't I Rewards bestow,
Lord of the Worlds above, and this below?
But let us more distinctly yet explore
The Frame, the comely Parts and wondrous pow'r
Of my stupendous Creature, nam'd before.
He that his Mouth dares open, would disclose
The bloody Throne of Death, long murth'ring Rows
Of Spearlike Teeth, which fixt on either hand,
Along his Jaws in dreadful order stand.
Impenetrable Scales, like Plates of Brass;
In beauteous Figures set, his Sides encase.
Clad in this Coat of Mail, his Martial Pride,
He does the Spear and glitt'ring Dart deride.
They're all so firmly fixt, so closely joyn'd,
That Air it self can no admission find.
In strict embraces they together grow,
Embraces that can ne'er Division know.
Whene'er he Sneezes, from his Nostrils flies
A flash, like Lightning darting thro' the Skys.
The lustre of his Eyes the Meads adorn,
Bright as the Saffron Eye-lids of the Morn.
His reeking Breath breaks from his hollow Throat,
As from a Forge or Caldron, boiling hot.
If hardy Swains his fury dare provoke,
His raging Nostrils belch out Clouds of Smoke.
From his wide Mouth, mingled with choaking steams,
Impetuous Sparks fly out, and fiery Streams.
His Neck, tho' not of formidable length,
Is the Imperial Throne and Seat of Strength.
Triumphant Terror, with its dreadful Reer,
Amazement, Sorrow, Woe and shiv'ring Fear,
Marching before, his hideous Pomp compose,
And seize on all around him where he goes.
The solid Strings of his hard Flesh, are wound
So fast together, and so firmly bound,
That Men can scarce by Violence or Art,
Th' adhering Muscles, and strong Sinews part.
His unrelenting Heart as Marble hard,
Did ne'er Compassion's tender Moan regard.
Mercy's soft Fire did never melt his Breast,
Which never Fear, or Pity yet exprest.
Try all thy Arts, thy Prayers and Tears repeat,
Thou't find thou only dost a Rock entreat,
All thy recoiling Strokes will but an Anvil beat.
But if amidst the Waves he reers his Head,
The most undaunted Hearts his Presence dread.
Such is their Consternation, such their Fright,
They know not whither to direct their Flight;
They can't escape, nor yet abide his sight.
Let them with Sword in hand the Beast attack,
The Steel will break in pieces on his Back.
In vain the Spear and Dart th' Assailant weilds,
His Scales are all impenetrable Shields;
His harden'd Skin ne'er to the Jav'lin yields.
Weapons of Iron made of every kind,
Which the destructive Wit of Man can find;
He values as the Bullrush by the Flood,
And those of Brass, as Spears of rotten Wood.
Thick Showers of Arrows singing thro' the Sky,
His Courage cannot shake, and make him fly.
He counts vast Stones, with Skill and Fury slung,
And Darts as Stubble, by th' Invader flung.
Against him when the clam'rous Troops advance,
He smiles at Spears, and mocks the threatning Lance.
The sharpest Weapons from his Back recoil,
And with their Shivers spred the miry Soil.
When thro' the Deep he rolls from side to side,
And tumbles in the Bottom of the Tyde;
He shakes the Banks, and troubles all the Waves,
Like Tempests loos'd from Subterranean Caves.
His motion works, and beats the Oazy Mud,
And with its Slime incorporates the Flood;
That all th' encumber'd, thick, fermenting Stream,
Does one vast Pot of boiling Oyntment seem.
Whene'er he Swims, he leaves along the Lake,
Such frothy Furrows, such a foamy Track,
That all the Waters of the Deep appear
Hoary with Age, or Grey with suddain fear.
On Earth, in Strength his Equal is not found,
For tho' he's low and creeps along the ground,
Yet he the loftiest, proudest Beast disdains,
And o'er the fruitful Vally Monarch reigns.
The strongest Creatures his dread Presence fear,
Whom he in pastime can in pieces tear.
The Frame, the comely Parts and wondrous pow'r
Of my stupendous Creature, nam'd before.
He that his Mouth dares open, would disclose
The bloody Throne of Death, long murth'ring Rows
Of Spearlike Teeth, which fixt on either hand,
Along his Jaws in dreadful order stand.
Impenetrable Scales, like Plates of Brass;
In beauteous Figures set, his Sides encase.
Clad in this Coat of Mail, his Martial Pride,
He does the Spear and glitt'ring Dart deride.
They're all so firmly fixt, so closely joyn'd,
That Air it self can no admission find.
In strict embraces they together grow,
Embraces that can ne'er Division know.
Whene'er he Sneezes, from his Nostrils flies
A flash, like Lightning darting thro' the Skys.
The lustre of his Eyes the Meads adorn,
Bright as the Saffron Eye-lids of the Morn.
His reeking Breath breaks from his hollow Throat,
As from a Forge or Caldron, boiling hot.
182
His raging Nostrils belch out Clouds of Smoke.
From his wide Mouth, mingled with choaking steams,
Impetuous Sparks fly out, and fiery Streams.
His Neck, tho' not of formidable length,
Is the Imperial Throne and Seat of Strength.
Triumphant Terror, with its dreadful Reer,
Amazement, Sorrow, Woe and shiv'ring Fear,
Marching before, his hideous Pomp compose,
And seize on all around him where he goes.
The solid Strings of his hard Flesh, are wound
So fast together, and so firmly bound,
That Men can scarce by Violence or Art,
Th' adhering Muscles, and strong Sinews part.
His unrelenting Heart as Marble hard,
Did ne'er Compassion's tender Moan regard.
Mercy's soft Fire did never melt his Breast,
Which never Fear, or Pity yet exprest.
Try all thy Arts, thy Prayers and Tears repeat,
Thou't find thou only dost a Rock entreat,
All thy recoiling Strokes will but an Anvil beat.
But if amidst the Waves he reers his Head,
The most undaunted Hearts his Presence dread.
Such is their Consternation, such their Fright,
They know not whither to direct their Flight;
They can't escape, nor yet abide his sight.
Let them with Sword in hand the Beast attack,
The Steel will break in pieces on his Back.
183
His Scales are all impenetrable Shields;
His harden'd Skin ne'er to the Jav'lin yields.
Weapons of Iron made of every kind,
Which the destructive Wit of Man can find;
He values as the Bullrush by the Flood,
And those of Brass, as Spears of rotten Wood.
Thick Showers of Arrows singing thro' the Sky,
His Courage cannot shake, and make him fly.
He counts vast Stones, with Skill and Fury slung,
And Darts as Stubble, by th' Invader flung.
Against him when the clam'rous Troops advance,
He smiles at Spears, and mocks the threatning Lance.
The sharpest Weapons from his Back recoil,
And with their Shivers spred the miry Soil.
When thro' the Deep he rolls from side to side,
And tumbles in the Bottom of the Tyde;
He shakes the Banks, and troubles all the Waves,
Like Tempests loos'd from Subterranean Caves.
His motion works, and beats the Oazy Mud,
And with its Slime incorporates the Flood;
That all th' encumber'd, thick, fermenting Stream,
Does one vast Pot of boiling Oyntment seem.
Whene'er he Swims, he leaves along the Lake,
Such frothy Furrows, such a foamy Track,
That all the Waters of the Deep appear
Hoary with Age, or Grey with suddain fear.
On Earth, in Strength his Equal is not found,
For tho' he's low and creeps along the ground,
184
And o'er the fruitful Vally Monarch reigns.
The strongest Creatures his dread Presence fear,
Whom he in pastime can in pieces tear.
|
Ch. XLI.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job | |