A paraphrase on the Book of Job :: :: University of Virginia Library

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

Blackmore, Richard

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A PARAPHRASE UPON THE Book of JOB.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

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.

THE SONGS of Moses, Deborah, &c. WITH SOME Select Psalms and Chapters of Isaiah, AND THE Third Chapter of Habakkuk, PARAPHRAS'D.

THE Song of MOSES PARAPHRAS'D.

THE Song of DEBORAH PARAPHRAS'D.

David's Lamentation, Occasion'd by the Death of Saul and Jonathan.

THE Second PSALM PARAPHRAS'D.

THE CIVth PSALM PARAPHRAS'D.

THE CXIVth PSALM PARAPHRAS'D.

THE CXLVIII PSALM PARAPHRAS'D.

THE Song of MOSES PARAPHRAS'D.

A PARAPHRASE On part of the xivth Cha. of Isaiah.

THE xxxivth Cha. of Isaiah. PARAPHRAS'D.

THE xlth Chap. of Isaiah. PARAPHRAS'D.

Part of the LII And the whole LIII Chap. of Isaiah, PARAPHRAS'D.

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LIII.

Ch. LIII.

THE III Ch. of Habakkuk. PARAPHRAS'D.

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A PARAPHRASE UPON THE Book of JOB.

Chap. I.

In ancient Times, e'er Moses Wonders wrought,
And murmuring Israel back from Egypt brought,
A Prince of great Renown, and wide Command,
Whose name was Job, dwelt in Arabia's Land.
He in the Heav'nly Paths of Virtue trod,
And fear'd to Sin, because he fear'd his God.
Sev'n goodly Sons that Admiration bred,
And Three Fair Daughters crown'd his Nuptial Bed
With gracious Heav'n's peculiar Favour blest,
The prosp'rous Man unmeasur'd Wealth possest.
His Fleecy Flocks o'er all the Hills were spred,
And in his Stalls a Thousand Oxen fed.
When he decamp'd to find a new Abode,
Three Thousand Camels bore along the Road
His precious Goods, and groan'd beneath the Load.
No Lord was found thro' all the Spicy East,
Whose Herds and Stores so vastly were increast.

His Sons to Feast each other did prepare
By turns, rich Liquors and delicious Fare.

And to their Treats their Sisters they invite,
To pass the flowing hours in soft delight;
While Charming Music, Dances, Sports and Play,
Gave swifter Wings to Time to fly away,
Beguil'd the Night, and hurried on the Day.
Conscious that Sin does oft such Mirth attend,
The Father fear'd his Sons might Heav'n offend.
For he with mournful Eyes had often spy'd,
Scatter'd on Pleasure's smooth, but treach'rous Tyde.
The Spoils of Virtue over-power'd by Sense,
And floating Wrecks of ruin'd Innocence.
He therefore for his Sons to Heav'n convey'd
His Supplications, and Atonement made;
And while they Feasted, he devoutly pray'd.

There was a Time when all the Sons of God
Came to th' Allmighty's bright and blest Abode,
To pay their Adoration at his Throne,
Which high on Adamantine Pillars shone.
Around in Throngs the prostrate Seraphs lay
Absorpt in Glory, and Excess of Day.
'Midst the bright Cherubs haughty Lucifer,
By marks of Guilt distinguish'd, did appear.
To whom th'Eternal thus. Apostate, whence
Com'st thou to these blest Seats of Innocence.

Th' Apostate said. I Lands and Seas have crost,
And past from Clime to Clime, from Coast to Coast,
Till I the Tour of yon low World had made,
And all its Empires and its States survey'd.

My Course compleated to these Seats of Light,
Mounting th' Aerial Void I wing'd my Flight.

Th' Allmighty then demanded. In thy Way
And toilsome Course, Ambitious Spirit, say,
Hast thou observ'd good Job, my Servant, one
In Righteousness and Piety, by none
Thro' all the wide Terrestrial World out-done?
Whose perfect Virtue Admiration draws
From Men on Earth, and finds in Heav'n Applause.

I've long observ'd, reply'd false Lucifer,
Thy Favourite, and watch'd his Steps with Care.
Without, the Saint is in Perfection seen,
But is the Saint without, a Saint within?
He serves his God, but does he serve for nought?
Does he thy Glory, or his own promote?
Does he Religion for it's Self regard;
And Virtue Court, not Virtue's bright Reward?
Is it his Honour to Revere his God,
Who has his Smiles, but never feels his Rod?
Hast thou not crown'd the Labour of his Hand,
Increas'd his Stores, extended his Command?
He can't complain unless with Wealth opprest,
With Favours over-laden, over-blest.
Entrench'd within th' impenetrable Fence,
Within the Works and Lines of Providence,
He can defy the most impetuous Shock;
And all th' Assaults of Hostile Forces mock.

With such Abundance blest, with Honour Crown'd,
The Weakest Virtue may maintain its ground.
But let this Prosp'rous, Wealthy Saint be try'd;
Let this pretended Gold the Test abide;
Change but the Scene, and let thy Frowning Brow,
The marks of Anger and Displeasure show;
Extend thy Hand, and touch his tender Part;
Thou'lt find his Power and Substance next his Heart:
Despoil'd of these, he'll Curse thee to thy Face,
And naked Virtue will no more embrace.

Th' Eternal to th' Apostate thus reply'd,
Let him Affliction's sharpest Edge abide.
The Fence I rais'd around him I remove:
Go, let thy Malice try his Truth and Love.
Let Righteous Job thy fiery Tests endure,
But let his Person be from Pain secure.

He said. Th'Apostate from his Presence went,
And on his fierce, malicious purpose bent,
He on Arabia made a swift Descent.

Mean time it happen'd at a splendid Feast,
Job's Eldest Son in turn receiv'd the rest.
The Sisters with their Brothers Drank and Eat,
All the delightful kinds of Wine and Meat.
When at Job's House a Courier did arrive,
Sweating with Speed, Panting, and scarce alive.
Horror and Wildness in his Aspect, bred
Just Fears of dismal News, and thus he said.

Invading Robbers from Sabea, warm'd
With hopes of Booty, and with Lances arm'd,
An Inroad made; and first the Men destroy'd
Who kept thy Herds, and then the Spoil enjoy'd.
I am alone by favourable Fate
Escap'd, th' unwelcome Tydings to relate.

While he was speaking, with as swift a pace
Another came, and with as sad a Face:
And thus he said: O Job, a suddain Storm,
And lowring Clouds did all the Sky deform.
The bellowing Engines did all Nature scare,
Spouting their ruddy Vomit thro' the Air.
Tempests of Fire, like that which burns in Hell,
And blew Cascades of flaming Sulphur fell,
Dreadful to Sight, and deadly to the Smell.
The rav'ning Flames were on the Mountains pour'd,
And all thy Shepherds, with their Flocks, devour'd.
I only am escap'd, to let thee know
Thy heavy Loss, and this sad Scene of Woe.

Scarce had he ended, when another came,
His Horror was alike, his haste the same.
And thus he said: The fierce Chaldeans made
Three chosen Bands, thy Camels to invade:
Thy Servants by surprize they've overcome;
And with their Spoil they march'd in Triumph home.

Mean time another enter'd, who in Speed
And Consternation, did the rest exceed.

And thus he spake. Job, At a splendid Treat
Thy Sons and Daughters were together met,
Within their Eldest Brother's pleasant Seat:
When rising from the Salvage Wilderness,
A howling, hollow Wind, with such a Stress
Bore on the House, that the high Roof and Wall
Disjoynted crack'd, and fell; and with the Fall
Crush'd, and interr'd at once th' assembled Youth.
I only scap'd to tell so sad a Truth.

Then Job his Garment rent, and shav'd his Head,
And on the Ground adoring fell, and said:
Naked at first I left my Mother's Womb,
And shall return as Naked to my Tomb.
The Lord has giv'n, and taken back again:
Because he takes his Own, shall I complain?
Tho' now he Frowns, I'll praise th' Allmighty's Name,
And bless the Spring whence past Enjoyments came.

Chap. II.

The glorious Sons of God, a second time
Adoring stood, around his Throne sublime.
A second time ambitious Lucifer,
Amidst the happy Seraphs did appear.
To whom th' Eternal thus. Apostate, whence
Com'st thou to these blest Seats of Innocence?

Th'Apostate said. I Lands and Seas have crost,
And past from Clime to Clime, from Coast to Coast,

Till I the Tour of yon low World had made,
And all its Empires, and its States survey'd.
And now am hither come. In all thy way,
Th' Allmighty said, Ambitious Spirit, say,
Hast thou observ'd good Job, my Servant, one
In Righteousness and Piety, by none
Thro' all the wide Terrestrial World out-done?
How 'midst his Suff'rings he asserts my Cause,
Defends my Justice, and Obeys my Laws.
He perseveres unchang'd, and still holds fast
Th' Integrity which he has long embrac't.
Thou mov'st me to afflict his Soul in vain,
He still his generous Virtue does retain.
Shock'd with this Storm, he still takes deeper root,
Nor is he less adorn'd with Noble Fruit.
The Constancy th' unshaken Man has shew'd,
Does thy malicious Policy Elude.
Still against Sin he makes a brave defence,
Despoil'd of all things, but his Innocence.

Th' Apostate then reply'd. Mankind, 'tis known,
Will give their Childrens Skins, to save their own.
To save their Lives, their Treasures they produce;
Rather than Death, a naked Being chuse.
But now extend thy Hand, and let the smart
Of some Disease, afflict him to the Heart;
And thou wilt find my Accusation true,
That he with Curses will his God pursue.

Then said th' Allmighty, Job is in thy power,
Afflict his Flesh, but be his Life secure.

In haste th' Apostate on this Errand went,
Pleas'd with a Power to vex the Innocent.
He soon collected thro' the Atmosphere,
Crude Exhalations, and corrupted Air.
He fetch'd raw Vapours, and unwholsom Damps
From standing Lakes, low Caves, and marshy Swamps.
Then finding Job, he secretly convey'd
Thro' all his winding Veins, th'infectious Seed.
The poyson'd Blood with Pestilential Boyls,
From Head to Foot the guiltless Man defiles.
In Ashes humbly silent, down he sate;
With Groans bewailing his unhappy Fate.
To clean his Skin, he with a Potsherd took
The Filth away, that from his Ulcers broke.

Then thus his Wife the Constant Man addrest.
How much thy pious dullness I detest!
Dost thou not see that thy Devotion's vain;
What have thy Pray'rs procur'd but Woe and Pain?
To suff'ring Virtue wilt thou still adhere,
And harden'd in Religion persevere?
Wilt thou retain thy Praying, Whining Cant?
And bless thy God; for what? for Plagues and Want?
Hast thou not yet thy Int'rest understood,
Perversly Righteous, and absurdly Good?

These painful Sores, and all thy Losses show,
How Heav'n regards the foolish Saint below.
Incorrigibly Pious, can't thy God
Reform thy stupid Virtue with his Rod?
Since only Woe attends thy Piety,
Be Wise and Brave for once, Curse God, and Dye.
Provoke th' Allmighty thus to be thy Friend,
To take thy Life, and so thy Suff'rings end.

Then Job reply'd. Thou speakest as the Weak,
As the Prophane, Flagitious Women speak.
What! shall a Man, a Worm with God contend?
Dispute his Will, his Rule of Justice mend?
He once enrich'd, and made us to abound,
Fill'd us with Goodness, and our Wishes crown'd:
Shall we receive his Blessings, but complain
When his afflicting Hand Creates our Pain?
We should our Patience in our Suff'rings shew;
Blessings are not, but Suff'rings are our Due.

When Bildad, Zophar, and Wise Eliphaz,
Rever'd for Knowledge, and their Noble Race,
All three to Job by Friendship long endear'd,
The News of his Calamitys had heard;
They left their Seats, and meeting on the Day
And Place of Rendezvous, they took their way
To Mourn with Job, to share his mighty Grief,
And by their Councels to afford Relief.
His Pain in part, by Kindness to remove,
And sooth his Anguish by condoling Love.

Then from afar they lifted up their Eyes,
Directed by his Moans, and wofull Crys,
And spy'd th' afflicted Job upon the Sand,
In Ashes laid, his Potsherd in his Hand.
Consummate Sorrow in his Eyes appear'd,
And Tears and Dust his meagre Cheeks besmear'd.
Deform'd he lay, Disfigur'd, Cover'd o'er
With running Boyls, and undigested Gore.
They sought him in himself, and scarce did know
Their ancient Friend, disguis'd with so much Woe.
At last convinc'd, they whisper'd, sure 'tis he;
But, O, how chang'd with Pain and Poverty?
What wondrous Turn of Providence is this,
And how precarious is Terrestrial Bliss?
Amazing Change! how soon, O Righteous God,
Man's Glory fades beneath thy blasting Rod?
To see a Righteous Friend so much distrest,
Awaken'd various Passions in their Breast:
Grief, Pity, Wonder in their Bosoms pent;
Prest with like force, and strove at once for Vent.
They tore their Vests, like Men in deep Despair,
And scatter'd Clouds of Ashes thro' the Air;
Which thence descending, on their Heads did rest,
Their inward Grief and Trouble to attest.
Not to molest a Sorrow so profound,
Sev'n Nights and Days they Silent sate around.
So long a Time they held their Peace, to show
A Rev'rence due to such prodigious Woe.

Chap. III.

And then afflicted Job first Silence broke.
His Friends attentive sate, while thus he spoke.
Curst be the fatal Day that cheer'd my Sight,
With the first Beam of Inauspicious Light.
Curst be the luckless Night, be Curst the Morn,
When first they said an Infant Man was born.
Perish that Day, let it no more appear,
Cut off from all Connexion with the Year.
O'ercharg'd with Sorrow, let it move so slow,
That all Times swift-Wing'd Race may still out-go
That lagging Day, still let it pant behind,
And never more its Place and Order find.
May it be banish'd from its Month, and may
No ill-designing Mortal ever Pray,
To see again this Abdicated Day.
May it its Course and Turn for ever miss,
Ingulph'd, absorpt, and lost in Time's Abyss.

As for the Night, let Darkness to be felt,
Impenetrable Darkness, such as dwelt
On the Dun Visage of Primeval Night,
Shut every Starbeam out from Mortals Sight,
And close up every Pass and Road of Light.
Let not the cheerful Face of Joy appear;
Let no harmonious Sound delight the Ear.
O let no other Accents fill the Air,
But strains of raging Grief, and Yellings of Despair.

Ye Mourners, all ye wretched Sons of Woe,
Who on your Birth-day dreadful Curses throw,
Some Execrations on this Night bestow.
Ye Stars withdraw your Light, let not a Ray
Be suffer'd o'er the gloomy Air to stray,
Let Men in vain expect the dawning Day.
Because it did not shut the Womb, and keep
Me from my Sorrows in Eternal Sleep.

Why did a false Conception not elude
My Parents hopes, and Life from me exclude?
Why was I shap'd and fashion'd as a Man?
Why Life not stifled when it first began?
O, that a quick Abortion had supprest
The vital Flame, when first it warm'd my Breast.
Why did I not continue still too weak,
And destitute of Force enough to break
The Bands which first did me an Embryo hold,
And in the Womb my tender Limbs enfold.
Why did the Womb give me a passage forth?
Or why did I survive th' unhappy Birth?
Why did my Mother's Knee and Nurse's Breast,
Preserve my Being, and prevent my Rest?
Had they in Mercy suffer'd me to lye
Without their help, and kindly let me dye;
I then had early met as good a Fate,
As Princes, Kings, and Councellors of State,
Who lye in Stately Sepulchers Interr'd,
Which by themselves at vast Expence were reer'd:

Who once with Gold and Silver did abound,
But now as Poor as Common Men are found.
I had like Infants stifled in the Womb,
Slept undisturb'd, laid in the quiet Tomb.
The Wicked there no more the Just molest,
And there the weary are dissolv'd in Rest.
There near th'Oppressor lyes th' Opprest in Peace,
And there the Pris'ners Crys for ever cease.
Levell'd by Death the Conquerour and the Slave,
The Wise and Foolish, Cowards and the Brave,
Lye mixt, and undistinguish'd in the Grave.

Why is that Peaceful Place, that soft repose
Deny'd to vast unsufferable Woes?
Why does the Man that drags in Sweat and Pain,
His Chain of Life demand to dye in vain?
Why is he not allow'd to yield his Breath,
T' enjoy the cool, refreshing Shades of Death?
Why does the courted Blessing still elude
His eager Arms, and fly him when pursu'd?
Relentless Death! Inexorable Grave!
Why will you not your wretched Vot'rys Save?
Who to enjoy you more desire and strive,
Than e'er two happy Lovers did to Live?
Why strikes not Death the Man who meets her Dart
With an expanded Breast and leaping Heart?
Why can't he taste her blest Ambrosial Bowl,
To ease the bitter Anguish of his Soul?
When a poor Wretch consum'd with raving Grief,
And sunk in deep Despair, to find relief

Shall dig with eager Labour to explore
Death's Leaden Vein, as if 'twas Silver Oar:
Why does he not so cheap a Treasure find?
By envious Life why is he countermin'd?
Why must he live, who begs and prays to dye,
'Tis Cruelty this Refuge to deny
To one who knows not whither else to fly?

This is my Case. For when I sit to Eat,
Tears are my Wine, and Trouble is my Meat.
My Grief Tempestuous, and unruly grows,
And as a roaring Flood my raging Sorrow flows.
For now I groan beneath those ills opprest,
Which my ill-boding Mind did still suggest.
When I possest the softest hours of Ease,
My ill presaging Thoughts disturb'd my Peace.
My anxious Fears did my Enjoyments Awe,
And now I feel what from afar I saw.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Chap. V.

Perhaps the Foolish may thy Conduct praise
And against Heav'n may bold Objections raise.

But try the Wise and Upright, call and see
Which Saint of all the sacred Hierarchy
Will thy rash Words applaud, thy Cause maintain,
And with audacious Charges Heav'n arraign?
Why dost thou, Job, thy Discontent express
That wicked Men do Power and Wealth possess?
That Power and Wealth they will not long enjoy,
For wrath Divine will the vile Race destroy.
I have with wonder seen the Wicked shoot
Deep in a fertile soil his thriving Root:
But soon assaulted with a suddain storm,
His ghastly Ruin did the Ground deform.
His Limbs and Leaves and wither'd Fruit were spred
Round his dismember'd Trunk, and blasted head.
His hated Sons impleaded by the Poor,
Their Wealth by Rapine gotten did restore.
Inextricable Troubles, vast Distress
Did this accurs't, despairing Race oppress.
The Hungry did their thorny Fences leap,
Enjoy their Labour, and their Harvest reap.
Robbers did Inroades make in furious Bands,
Their Houses rifle, and lay wast their Lands.

What means these Cries? why this Impatience shown?
Is Trouble rare? are Woes uncommon grown?
'Tis true, Affliction springs not from the Earth,
Nor to the Ground owes a spontaneous Birth;
Yet Men to Woe as to their Center tend,
As Streams to Seas, and Flames to Heav'n ascend.

This is the sad Inheritance convey'd
From Man to Man since Adam disobey'd.
This is the Lot which God does Man assign;
Wherefore, O Job, were thy Affliction mine,
I would to Heav'n's dread Majesty submit;
All my own Ways Arraign, but his Acquit.
I would his Justice and his Truth adore,
Revere his Greatness, but my self abhor.
By humble Resignation I would ly
Beneath his Feet, and for his Mercy cry.

His Deeds are great, unsearchable his Ways,
Which in observing Minds Amazement raise.
His Providence when least 'tis understood,
Is always Just, and Merciful and Good.
The Wonders of this dark, unfathom'd Deep,
Our Thoughts in endless Admiration keep.
He hangs his Clouds, amazing to behold,
And shapes his Rain-drops in an unknown Mould.
Then he his Waters on the Mountains pours,
And on the Vallys his Prolific Showers.
He sets the Servant in the Master's place,
And wipes the Tears off from the Mourner's Face.
The crafty he Entangles, Countermines
The Councellor, and blasts his Wise designs.
He turns against himself the Statesman's Art,
And does the Politician's Hopes subvert.
By interposing Mists, the clearest Sight
He oft obstructs, and intercepts the Light.

Involv'd in thicken'd Shades they lose their way,
Believe 'tis Night, and seek at Noon the Day.
He from th' Oppressor does Protect the Poor,
And from his Mighty Foe the Weak secure:
So to the Poor he gives reviving Hopes,
And the black Mouth of proud Injustice stops.

Thrice happy is the Man, who feels the smart
Which kindly God's correcting Strokes impart.
When chasten'd, think, thou art with Favours crown'd;
Let no desponding Thoughts thy Hopes confound,
The Hand that made, will likewise heal thy Wound.
He'll from thy various Troubles set thee free,
And change to Joy this Scene of Misery.
His powerful Word shall call the smiling Light
From this wild Chaos, and this sullen Night.
He shall protect thee with a tender Care
From the fierce Jaws of Famine and of War.
The poisonous Arrows of the Sland'ring Tongue,
Shall neither gall thy Fame, or Honour wrong.
When grim Destruction with her horrid Train
And dire Attendants, Anguish, Woe and Pain
Advances, shaking her tremendous Spear,
Her Threats shall move thy Laughter, not thy Fear.
All Nature reconcil'd shall give thee Peace,
If thy just Ways the Lord of Nature please.
The Stones and all the Elements with thee,
Shall ratify a strict Confed'racy.
Wild Beasts their salvage Nature shall forget,
And for a firm Allyance with thee treat.

The Finny Tyrants of the spacious Seas,
Shall send a Scaly Embassy for Peace.
His plighted Faith the Crocodile shall keep,
And seeing thee, for Joy sincerely Weep.
Dragons shall thee with friendly Hissings greet,
And wanton Serpents roll, and lick thy Feet.
The fawning Lyon shall thy Friendship Court,
And gentle Tygers shall around thee sport.
These awkard Sycophants shall thee address,
And unaccustom'd Flattery express.
Thy Habitation shall be ever blest
With undisturb'd Tranquility and Rest.
Thy House in Numbers shall surpass the Sand,
And as the Rocks around, unshaken stand.
When watchful Death shall on her Harvest look,
And see thee ripe with Age invite the Hook,
She'll gently cut thy bending Stalk, and thee
Lay kindly in the Grave her Granary.
Weigh these undoubted Truths, and thou wilt find
Great Consolation to thy wounded Mind.

Chap. VI.

He ceas'd, and Job in Pain and Anguish said,
O, that my Grief was in a Ballance laid,
And all my Suff'rings were against it weigh'd!
Then let an equal Judge decide my Case,
Whether my Grief my Suff'rings does surpass.
My massy Burden and my pondrous Woe,
In weight the Sand around the Sea out-do.

Unutterable Groans my Soul oppress,
Nor have I words to shew my deep Distress.
Th'Allmighty's Arrows stick within my Heart,
And every fest'ring Wound gives deadly smart.
Arrows whose heads, like pointed Lightning, shine,
Steep'd in the strongest Lees of Wrath Divine.
Their raging Poison spreds without controul,
Drinks up my Life, and Eats my very Soul.
Th' Allmighty's Terrors drawn out in Array
Surround me, and invade me every Way.
You that can triumph free from Care and Pain
In Peace and Plenty, never need Complain;
Is the Wild Ass in grassy Fields diseas'd?
Or o'er his Fodder lows the Oxe displeas'd.
But did you my Affliction undergo,
Your groans with mine would some proportion show,
And to as high a Tyde your swelling Sorrows grow.
Who in unsavory Meats can take delight?
What Taste is in an Egg's insipid White?
Then noxious Food, such as my Sorrows are,
'Tis madness to commend, as wholsom Fare.
I'm now compell'd, my Poverty is such,
To feed on Meats which I abhorr'd to touch.
My Troubles rise to such amazing height,
Such is my Grief's unsufferable Weight;
My Soul to such extremity is driv'n,
That I must still implore the God of Heav'n
That I may find the Blessing I require,
That he would grant my passionate desire;

That he my Life in Mercy would destroy,
And let me Death, for which I long, enjoy.
That he would bowels of Compassion show,
And loose his Hand to give the fatal blow.
To welcome Death I would my Arms extend,
Embrace and hug my Death tho' ghastly Friend.
Did I but see the kind Deliverer near,
Did from the Grave some dawning hope appear,
This Anodyne my Anguish would appease,
That with my Life my Grief would quickly cease.
I'd then a firm, unshaken Courage show,
Harden'd in Grief, and strengthen'd by my Woe.
I hate to live, of Death I'm not affraid,
Conscious that Heav'n I strictly have obey'd.
What is my Strength? how weak, and how absurd
Is it to hope it er'e shall be restor'd?
What is my End? where is my Period set
When I no more shall my sad moans repeat?
Wasted and worn I linger and complain,
And by prolonging Life prolong my Pain.

I from your Love and Council hop'd Relief,
Thought your Discourses would abate my Grief;
But your perverse, unskilful ways confess
You know not how to treat your Friend's distress.
Mistaking my Distemper you enrage
The sharp Disease, but not the Pain asswage.

Am I a Marble Rock that cannot feel?
Are all my Muscles Brass, my Sinews Steel?

That I this mighty Load of Grief must bear,
While Death which I invoke neglects my Pray'r,
And at a distance keeps, deriding my Despair.
O Eliphaz, was I desponding left,
Of help without, and sense within bereft,
Yet still a Friend Compassion should express
To one in such Affliction, and Distress.
As when with burning heat a Trav'ller fry'd
Finds out the Brook, but sees the Channel dry'd,
Where he expected cooling Streams should flow,
Since 'twas in Winter fill'd with Ice and Snow;
But when the Waters felt a warmer heat,
They rose in Vapours, and forsook their Seat:
Won by the Summer's importuning Ray,
Th' eloping Flood did from its Channel stray,
And with enticing Sun-beams stole away:
The Trav'ller casting down a troubled look,
Sighs and upbraids the false deceitful Brook.
Fair Sheba's Convoys and the thirsty Troops
Of Tema mourn their disappointed Hopes.
Confounded they express their Grief and Shame,
To find the Banks without th' expected Stream.
No less am I amaz'd, no less I grieve
That you my bosom Friends my hopes deceive.

You are unable to afford me Aid,
Seeing my Grief you start and are affraid.
Do my prodigious Woes my Friends amaze?
Why do you wildly stare, and at a distance gaze?

Has my Disease this Consternation bred?
D'ye fear my Ulcers will Infection spred?
D'ye fear your Friend now Poor, will craving grow,
And beg Supplies of you to ease his Woe?
Did I e'er importune my Friends to grant
Part of their Substance to relieve my want?
Did ever Job at your Expence demand
To be deliver'd from th'Oppressor's hand?
If your Instructions can my Ways correct,
Thankfull I'll hold my Peace, and not reject
The Heav'nly Light, that will my Crime detect.
Right Reason's Beams a quick admission find,
And breaking all Obstructions force the Mind:
But whom can your Weak Arguments confute?
Short, or beside the Mark you ever shoot.
Will you your Ignominious Slanders throw,
And tho' I am your Friend, insult my Woe?
Almost bereft of sense yet I can find
Your Words are vain and empty, as the Wind.
Your Indiscretion far from your Intent,
With cruel Comforts does my Grief augment.
You sink me down too low before deprest,
And in your subtile Snares your Friend Arrest.
And now if you my Troubles would survey,
And with deliberate Thoughts my Sorrow weigh,
You would pronounce I justly did Complain,
Acquit my Speeches, and your own Arraign.
Return I pray, to Reason's Paths return,
You'll then assert my Cause, my Suff'rings mourn.

You will defend my Righteousness, and all
Your rash and unconsider'd Words recall.
I do not find my Reason so debas'd,
Nor yet so undistinguishing my Taste,
But I can see your words are misapply'd;
They cannot Truth's Impartial Test abide.

Chap. VII.

The Life of Man has a determin'd date
Fix'd by Divine, Irrevocable Fate.
His Days will at a certain time expire,
As his, who lets his Labour out for Hire.
The Weary Slave does for the Evening pray,
Knowing his Labour ceases with the Day.
Then why should I with toilsom Life opprest,
Not be allow'd to pray for Death and Rest?
Th' uneasy Day in ling'ring Pain I spend,
And think the tedious Night will never end.
By Night when Men their anxious Thoughts disband,
And gently strok'd by Slumber's downy hand;
Reluctant Cares at last from raging cease,
And Sleep till Morn, to give the Wretched Peace.
Ev'n then my restless Thoughts to vex my Soul,
In everlasting Agitations roll.
My salvage Grief let loose, like Beasts of Prey,
By Night grows more outragious, than by Day.
My swelling Sorrows never will subside,
But higher rise in their Nocturnal Tyde.
A thousand times I turn, but turn in vain,
I change my Side, but always keep my Pain.

With longing Eyes I seek the dawning Light,
But Woe succeeds, as Day succeeds the Night.
My Ulcerated Flesh is cloath'd with Worms,
And Putrefaction every Limb deforms.

My Days in quick Succession go and come,
As the swift Shuttle traverses the Loom.
Lord, in Compassion to me, call to mind,
That swift-wing'd Life out-flys the fleetest Wind.
No grateful Object more shall please my Sight,
No more Harmonious Sounds my Ear delight.
I must for ever my Abode forsake,
For ever of my Friends my Farewell take.
Shouldst thou displeas'd give me a frowning Look,
I sink, I dy, as if with Light'ning struck.
As ruin'd Clouds dissolve, and flow in Air,
And ne'er their lost Connexion can repair:
So he that once descends into the Tomb,
Before the great and Universal Doom,
No more his Form and Vigor will resume.
He'll never break the Leaden Chains of Death,
Nor more by turns exclude and draw his Breath.
He shall no more enjoy his former home,
Nor from the Grave to his dear Neighbours come.
Since Life by Common Fate must quickly cease,
And griping Death will ne'er her Prey release;
I'll not refrain, but for Compassion Cry,
For some repose and Ease, or else to Dye.
I'll speak, for Grief is bold and eloquent,
My Prayers and Crys shall give my Sorrow vent.

Expostulations and Complaints shall ease
My tortur'd Soul, and the sharp Pain appease.

Am I a vast, a wild, Impetuous Deep,
That thou art forc'd to set thy Watch, and keep
Me thus in Bounds? Can I e'er dangerous grow,
E'er pass my Banks, and o'er the Region flow?
Am I a furious Monster of the Main,
That thou in Fetters dost my Rage restrain?
No. I extended lye upon my Bed,
And on my Couch repose my restless Head:
But then if Sleep around me nodding flyes
With flaggy Wings, and lights upon my Eyes;
Visions and Dreams compos'd of frightful Air,
The drowsy Stranger from my Eye-lids scare.
Therefore my Soul does quick Deliv'rance ask
From tedious Life's unsufferable Task:
Life I abhor; let me alone to Dye;
Why should I still in ling'ring Torments lye?
Why does Coy Death from my Embraces fly?
Why should I Live? Was I from Pain releast,
Life's but a vain and empty Name at best.
O, what is Man? What is the Hope and Trust
Of a poor piece of ill-cemented Dust?
What is the Wight, that God should condescend
To try his Strength, and with him should contend?
Wilt thou such Honour on a Wretch bestow,
Is he or worth thy Notice, or thy Blow?
Wilt thou thy Power against a Worm engage,
Is Man a proper Object of thy Rage?

But if thou scourgest with a kind Intent,
And thy sharp Strokes are for Correction meant
To make the Suff'rer thy just Laws obey,
And to reduce the Wand'rer to his way,
Still what is Man, that every Day his God
Should both Chastise, and Guide him with his Rod?
That he should Wound his Flesh to heal his Mind,
Beneficent in Wrath, and in Displeasure Kind?
Lord, spare a Wretch that has not long to live,
Some easie Minutes, some short respite give.
I own my Guilt, and my Offences blame,
Delug'd in Tears, and overwhelm'd with Shame.
What shall I do thy Favour to regain?
Can I implore th' Allmighty's Aid in vain,
Whose gracious Power does all Mankind sustain?
In deeds of Kindness thou dost most rejoyce,
Chast'ning is forc'd, but Mercy is thy choice.
Why hast thou set me as a Mark, to stand
Against the Darts of thy resistless Hand,
Which so much gaul my fest'ring Flesh, that I
Would lay my Life, my Burden down, and dye?
Forgive of all my Guilt the mighty Debt,
Remember Mercy, and my Sin forget.

Chap. VIII.

Then Bildad:

How long wilt thou the Bounds of Patience break?
And thus absurdly and perversly speak?
How long shall thy Reproaches Heav'n Arraign?
Does the least Spot Eternal Justice stain?

Why does thy Passion's Tyde its Bank o'erflow?
Why do thy Words, like Winds, Tempestuous grow?
Does God Deceit to Sacred Truth prefer?
Rather than Job, must God be thought to err?
If thy Rebellious Children did provoke
Th' Allmighty's Wrath, and felt his Vengeful stroke,
If thou his Perfect Justice would'st adore,
If thou his Mercy humbly would'st implore;
And to thy Pray'r joyn Purity of Heart,
For thy Support he would his Power exert.
His Blessings yet would Crown thy righteous Ways,
And thou in Peace might'st pass thy prosp'rous Days.
Tho' thou art Poor and despicably low,
Thy Substance should increase and vastly grow,
And Wealth around thee would profusely flow.
Consult thy Fathers, look on Ages back,
Turn o'er the Rolls of Time, and strict enquiry make.
We are of no Experience, no regard
When with our long-liv'd Ancestors compar'd:
Those Venerable Heads will give thee Light
In this Debate, and set thy Judgment right.
They'll from repeated Observation shew,
That all the Maxims we advance, are true.

Ev'n as a Rush that in a Wat'ry Mead
With hasty growth reers its presumptuous Head;
In its chief Verdure withering away,
Prevents the Mower by a swift decay.
The Plants that once with Envy on him gaz'd,
Stand at this unexpected Change amaz'd.

So shall the Beauty of the Wicked fade,
Who to endure has no Foundation laid.
His swelling Hopes in their high Tyde shall ebb;
His Trust is weaker than a Spider's Web.
He on his House shall lean, a fruitless Prop,
His House will sink, and disappoint his Hope.
Will he on Servants and his Wealth depend,
Servants and Wealth their Lord shall not defend.
Tho' he to Heav'n should raise his shady head,
And his thick Branches o'er the Garden spread;
Should he beneath the Summer's burning Ray
Continue Green, which makes the Rush decay;
Should all his interweaving Roots around,
Embrace the Stones in firm and solid ground;
Could he deride the Winds that him invade,
And Tempests with their Impotence upbraid;
Did he thus stand secure from Storms and Heat,
Proud of the Strength and Beauty of his Seat;
He shall his suddain Extirpation Mourn,
Fell'd by the Axe, or else by Thunder torn.
Compleat Destruction shall all marks efface,
And all Remains, that might confess his place.
The ground shall no discov'ring Footsteps shew,
Nor neighb'ring Trees remember, where he grew.
No other milder Fate or happier End,
Shall all his Pomp and prosp'rous Pride attend.
He shall be rooted up, and in his Ground
No fruitful Plant shall be hereafter found,
But neighb'ring Trees shall thrive, that stand around.

His God will ne'er the Perfect Man reject,
Nor may the Wicked e'er his Aid expect.
Hence, Job, thy want of Virtue does appear,
That God abandons thee to thy Despair.
But this is certain, if thou wilt not mourn
Offences past, and to thy God return,
Utter Destruction shall thy Ways attend;
But if convinc'd thou wilt thy Errors mend,
He shall thy former Joy and Power restore,
Encrease thy Friends, and multiply thy Store;
Till Songs and Shouts thy great Delight attest,
And mighty Joy extends thy lab'ring Breast.
Those who revil'd thee, and thy Dwelling curst,
Shall blush with Shame, with Indignation burst;
When they shall see thy Happy Days restor'd,
And greater Wealth and Honour on thee pour'd.
Mean time resistless Ruin shall efface
The Wicked Man, and all his impious Race.

Chap. IX.

Then answer'd Job. This Sacred Truth I own,
That God has still unblemish'd Justice shown.
Nor can a Man his Innocence defend,
If with him God should in Debate contend.
What Reasonings e'er he offers in dispute,
Man of a thousand could not one Confute.
He's Wise in Heart, and guides all Nature's Ways,
And at a View the Universe surveys.

The Heart he searches with his piercing Eye,
And bubbling Thoughts does in their Spring descry.
Unfinish'd Notions in the Mind he sees,
And the rude Lines of half-drawn Images.
He views the Spark that first our Bosom fires,
And the first struggling of unborn Desires.
He from the Hills of Time looks down, to see
The boundless Vale of dark Futurity.
He sees all Ages from Duration's Deep
Come rolling on, and how they Order keep.
All things he sees in Time's Capacious Womb,
And turns the Annals o'er of Years to come.
He sees each Chance, and every future Turn,
And reads the Lives of Monarchs yet unborn.
He views Events that in their Causes lye,
And sees Effects in Nature's Energy.
He minds our Ways, and to his clearer Sight
Those Paths are crooked, which we thought were right.

His Strength proportion with his Wisdom shows,
Fit to Protect his Friends, and Crush his Foes;
Who with Success did e'er his Arm oppose?
Hills with their Woods, when his fierce Anger burns,
He from their Seat amidst the Vally spurns.
He turns up Mountains Roots against the Sky,
And from his Wrath the Rocks find Wings to fly.
He makes the Earth with strong Convulsions shake,
Her Pillars start, and their old Base forsake.
Vast, gaping Chasms, amazing to the Sight,
Mingle the Day with Subterranean Night.

Th' inclining Poles as wrench'd aside appear,
And diving Isles conceal themselves for fear.
At his Command the rising Sun will stay,
And from the World keep back the ling'ring Day.
His marshal'd Clouds to intercept the Light,
Seal up the Stars the twinkling Eyes of Night.
The spreading Heav'n's he as a Curtain draws,
Treads down aspiring Waves, and gives the Ocean Laws.
With Orbs of Light he inlays all the Sphears,
And studs the Sable Night with Silver Stars.
He all the Constellations hangs on high,
And bids the Planets wander thro' the Sky.
Stormy Arcturus round the Northern Pole
By his direction does unweary'd roll.
Orion and the Pleiades dispence,
At his Command, their Rays and Influence.
His skillful hand on Airy Pillars reers
The Vaulted Chambers of the Southern Spheres.
The long Succession of his Mighty Deeds,
Our everlasting Admiration feeds.

Behind a black impenetrable Screen
Of Pitchy Clouds, th' Allmighty walks unseen.
He that to follow in his Steps essays,
Thro' all his craggy, dark, perplexing Ways,
Scar'd by the sacred Horrors of the Place,
Will own, the Maze Divine he cannot trace,
Nor the black Gulph, and trackless Mountains pass.
He'll stand astonish'd, and bereft of Sense,
Lost in the awful Wilds of Providence.

If he his settled Purpose has exprest,
A Man of Wealth and Honour to divest,
What hardy Mortal will his Power withstand,
Or dares a reason why 'tis done, demand?
Till God withdraws the heavy, galling Yoke,
And reconcil'd, forbears th'afflicting Stroke:
Those who would rescue, may their Pride express,
But by their fall their weakness shall confess.

Since none a Match in Power with God contends,
And none his Ways and Counsels comprehends,
Can I pretend to speak, my Case to state,
And grapple with th' Allmighty in debate?
Can I his Ear with chosen Language charm,
And God of all his Arguments disarm?
Tho' I believ'd my Cause most Right and Just,
I would my doubtful Innocence distrust.
I would not plead with God, but only pray
That Justice he with Mercy would allay.
Tho' he should kindly grant me my Request,
Yet I so much despond, am so Distrest,
That I th' amazing Truth should ne'er believe,
But, as a gawdy Dream the joyful News receive.
Both sharp and lasting Suff'rings I have born,
With Wrath Divine, as with a Tempest torn;
He perseveres and multiplies his Strokes,
Tho' no uncommon Guilt his Wrath provokes.
So fast his fierce, redoubled Blows descend,
That I can scarce to all my Wounds attend.

No breathing Time is giv'n, no short Relief
From exquisite and never-ceasing Grief.
Should I his Throne with all my force Assail,
Against Allmighty Strength can I prevail?
If I Appeal to Judges and to Laws,
What higher Court can Sit to hear my Cause?
If I my Righteousness before him plead,
Will not my Words to my Conviction lead?
Will he not thence my Condemnation draw,
And in my purest Virtue find a flaw?
Should God pronounce me just, yet I'd refuse
Uneasy Life, and Death's Embraces chuse.

To all things you advance, to represent
God's Power and Justice fully, I assent.
But then you err, when you assert that God
Exempts the Righteous from his scourging Rod.
No Fav'rite Son is from his Frown secure,
But in his Turn does his sharp Stripes endure.
The Foolish from the Wise you cannot know
By the false marks of Happiness, or Woe.
'Twixt Good and Bad there's no distinction made,
Unless more frequent Darts the Good invade.
Against the Just th' Allmighty's Arrows fly,
For he delights the Innocent to try.
To show their Constant and their God-like Mind,
Not by Afflictions broken, but refin'd.
He to the Wicked gives the Earth away,
And raises Monsters to Imperial Sway.

He makes them Peace and Plenty to possess,
And crowns their Undertakings with Success.
While Men for Empire fit, and Publique Trust,
Quick in discerning, in deciding Just,
Worthy of Thrones, Men of unblemish'd Fame,
Are oft expos'd to Misery and Shame.
This is th' Allmighty's Deed, if not, declare
Its genuine Authors, who, and where they are.

My Life consumes in never-ceasing Woe,
My rolling Days uninterrupted flow,
To disembogue their Flood within the Deep,
Where all the Streams of Time collected Sleep.
No eager Couriers in their greatest haste,
Nor Ship before the Wind advance so fast.
The Eagle from the Mountains Airy top,
To strike his Prey, does ne'er so swiftly stoop.
If I resolve my Sorrow to forget,
That I'll no more my rash Complaints repeat,
That my unbridled Passion I'll restrain;
This humble Resignation is in vain.
For God will never my Distress relieve,
He'll punish on, and tempt Men to believe.
That Job by some unusual, black Offence,
Has Heav'n provok'd such Judgments to dispence.
In vain I strive my Innocence to clear,
Since I must still these grievous Suff'rings bear,
Still the sad marks of Heav'n's displeasure wear.
If by my Vindication I should grow
As clean and spotless, as the Fleecy Snow,

When God replies, my Stains before conceal'd
To my Confusion would be all reveal'd.
My Foulness he'll detect, that I no more
Should boast my Cleanness, but my self abhor.

He's not a Man, my equal in dispute,
That I should hope his Reasons to refute:
Can I in Courts of Judgment take my place,
And plead against th' Allmighty Face to Face?
In this Debate what Umpire shall preside,
Hear all our Arguings, and the Cause decide?
Let him his Terrors, and his Rod withdraw,
And let his Mercy mitigate his Law;
For humane Frailty due Allowance make,
And I with Courage will my Tryal take.
I then will boldly speak, and free from fear
I'll quickly make my Innocence appear.
But this request th' Allmighty does refuse;
He does the Rigour of his Justice use.
His awful Terrors which my Soul surround,
Drink up my Spirits, and my Hope confound.
As I have done, I therefore will complain,
This only way is left to sooth my Pain.

Chap. X.

My constant Woes, such constant Groans create,
That Life's a black, uncomfortable State.
My Soul abhors this Loathsom Lump of Clay,
Longs to be free, to wing to Heav'n its way.
I'll make my moan to give its Sorrow vent,
Else will my Breast be with its Tempest rent.

I cannot smother such Gigantick Woe,
Nor on my raging Grief a Muzzle throw.
I can't forbear, to God I'll thus complain,
As one that's Wicked, do not me Arraign.
Why dost thou let me thus in torment lye,
And thus in vain for Heav'n's Compassion Cry?
Do not thy Servant by uncommon Woes,
To Publique Censure and Reproach expose.
Mankind will Me Condemn, and cry, we know
His Crime's enormous, since his Pain is so.

Can God Complacence in Oppression take,
And vex his Creatures for the Pleasure's sake?
O, can a God of Mercy cruel grow,
No Pity feel, no tender Passion show?
Can God my Father e'er Unnatural prove,
Shut up his Bowels, and forget to love?
Will he with hostile Force his Sons invade,
Pleas'd to destroy the Works his hands have made?
While he mean time with more auspicious Rays
Shines on the Wicked, and approves their Ways?
Has God an Eye of Flesh, that needs the Light?
Has he, like Man, a Weak imperfect Sight,
That he's so curious in his search, and makes
Such strict enquiry after my Mistakes?
Or are th' Allmighty's days like those of Man,
That in extension scarce exceed a Span?
That he makes haste to punish, on pretence
That Death may interpose for my Defence.

By blacker Crimes than others, thou dost know
I'm not distinguish'd, tho I am by Woe.
Thou know'st that none thy Vengeance can withstand,
Or rescue me from thy Afflicting Hand.
Should'st thou deny me Aid, I am bereft
Of all Assistance, and am hopeless left.

Thy hands have wrought and fashion'd every Part
Of this weak Fabrick with amazing Art:
And now, as if thou didst thy Labour blame,
Wilt thou in pieces dash the curious Frame?
O let but God remember how at first
He form'd my Limbs, and rais'd me out of Dust.
How with stupendous Skill he did convey
My Flame of Life thro' crooked Tubes of Clay.
What need he crush me then with mighty Pain,
When of my self I turn to Dust again?
To him my Parent, I my Being owe,
The Fountain whence precarious Beings flow.
He the prolific Principles infus'd,
From whence the crude Conception was produc'd.
He form'd me when an Embryo in the Womb,
And made my Limbs their proper Shape assume.
He warm'd the heaving Mass with Vital Heat,
Hung in the Breast my Heart, and bid it beat.
He of connected Bones a Bullwark made,
Against the Ills which every way invade.
About the Bones he the strong Sinews wound,
And fenc'd the tender Plant of Life around.

He taught my breathing Lungs to draw the Air,
Which might the Vital Flame within repair.
He made the Veins o'er all the Body stray,
Which Purple Life in winding Streams convey.
He spun the various threads with Art Divine,
Wherewith he weav'd my Flesh, and curious Skin.
He did not only make me Life possess,
But did my Life with sweet Enjoyments bless.
I was with Peace, and with abundance cloy'd,
And long a true Terrestrial Heav'n enjoy'd.
At first he kindled, and he still maintains
The Flame of Life which wanders thro' my Veins.
Sure God remembers, how he has been kind,
And treasures up these Favours in his Mind.
And on his former Love can he reflect,
And me at last, tho' unprovok'd, reject?

If I am Wicked I thy Vengeance bear,
And if I'm Righteous, still thy Frowns I fear.
Confusion and Despair my Soul Oppress,
Lord, see my Woe, and pity my Distress.
My sad Complaints increase, my Suff'rings grow,
And every Moment propagates my Woe.
As a fierce Lyon o'er the grassy Lawn,
With Hunger urg'd, pursues the flying Fawn;
So dost thou hunt me down by Night and Day,
So dost thou seize, and tear the trembling Prey.
Thou dost my Spirits and my Strength devour,
And mark me out to Celebrate thy Power.

Thou dost thy Judgments and thy Strokes renew,
And my vext Soul with hotter Wrath pursue.
Thou still reviv'st the War, and dost employ
All Arts and Arms thy Creature to annoy.
Did I for this amidst the Living come?
Didst thou for this release me from the Womb?
Oh! that from thence I ne'er had broke away,
Or had expir'd, when first I saw the Day!
For then had I been carried from the Womb,
And laid to Sleep within the silent Tomb.
My Minutes fly, my Days roll on apace,
And hasty Life will soon compleat its Race.
Some Comfort therefore, some short respite give,
And spare a Wretch that soon must cease to Live.
Some hours of Rest, some Intervals bestow,
And for a Moment interrupt my Woe;
Before I'm carried to the Grave beneath,
The Land of Darkness and the Shades of Death:
A Region undiscover'd to the Light,
Th' Imperial Seat of unmolested Night:
A Place secur'd with such a gloomy Mound,
So fenc'd with Walls of solid Darkness round,
That not a streak of Light, no wand'ring Ray
E'er came to view it, or explor'd the Way
To introduce the Foreign Power of Day.

Then Zophar did his Speech to Job direct:
Thou dost Prolix Discourses much affect.

Thy Words abound, and roll in Floods along
With mighty noise, but are they therefore Strong?
Shall thy loud Deluge sober Reason drown,
And bear thy Friends, thy kind Instructers down?
Shall thy Devices make us hold our Peace?
Must we not answer, lest we should displease?
Shalt thou with such unsufferable Pride,
Despise thy Brethren, and thy God deride,
And yet, must no Man undertake to blame
Thy faulty Conduct, and expose thy Shame?
For thou hast said, that in th' Allmighty's Sight
Thy Hands are clean, and thy Opinions right.
Would God would interpose, and undertake
This Argument for thy Conviction's sake!
His All-discerning Eye would quickly find
Stains in thy hands; and Errors in thy mind.
If he would Wisdom's hidden Stores expose,
Its awful Depths and Wonders would disclose.
Wonders and Depths of Wisdom yet conceal'd,
Surpassing all which he has e'er reveal'd.
Thou would'st adore his methods, and declare
How much above thy reach his Councels are.
Thou wouldst no more thy rash expressions use,
No more th' Allmighty's Providence accuse.
For of thy Sin he has forgiven part,
Exacting less by far than thy desert.

Why does thy peevish Folly God Arraign?
Why wouldst thou fix on Providence a Stain?

Can humane Reason such wide Arms extend,
As shall th' Allmighty's Wisdom comprehend?
Let down thy Understanding, try to sound
And search a Deep so vast, and so profound.
Canst thou the Reasons of his Conduct find,
And view the secret Councel of his Mind?
It is as Heav'n insuperably Steep,
Wide as the boundless Ocean, and as deep;
What canst thou do but awful distance keep?
If God from off the Earth a Nation cuts,
If wretched Captives he in Prison shuts;
If he shall give a harrass'd Kingdom ease,
And from his Chains the squallid Slave release,
Who can against him such Objections raise,
As shall detect Injustice in his Ways?
Tho' Man so little knows, is so unfit
In Judgment on his Maker's Ways to sit;
Yet God our Folly and our Rashness knows,
And can our secret Wickedness expose.
He can discover all our guilty Thoughts,
And tho' we hide them, will reveal our Faults.
Tho' thou dost vaunt that thou art free from Sin,
He may discern Hypocrisy within.
Nor stands he unconcern'd, but will chastise
The Wickedness, which he in Man descrys.
And yet this vain, this despicable Wight,
This foolish Creature Man, takes great delight
In being thought divinely Wise, and fit
Th' Allmighty's Deeds to censure or acquit:

Tho' as to things Divine, which most advance
Man's Happy State, he does in Ignorance,
In Headiness and Dullness far surpass
The stupid Offsrping of the wildest Ass.

If Penitential Groans prepare thy way,
And thou shalt humbly to th' Allmighty pray;
If thou his Lands and Treasure dost restore
(If thou detainest any) to the Poor;
If thou the Cause of Sin wilt not espouse,
But chase it from thy Heart, and from thy House;
Thou shalt to Heav'n thy chearful Face erect,
To Heav'n that does the Innocent Protect.
On strong Foundations stedfast thou shalt stand,
Danger deride, and all thy Fears disband.
As Summer Floods which o'er the Meadows flow
With equal Speed back to their Channel go:
So thy subsiding Sorrows shall retreat,
And thou shalt all thy Misery forget.
Thou shalt dispel with thy prevailing Light,
The Shades and gloomy Horrors of the Night.
Thou shalt emerge from Woe and deep Despair,
Bright as Noon-day, and as the Morning fair.
Thou shalt in Peace thy Fields and Herds survey,
Secure as well from Beasts, as Men of Prey.
Surrounding Bulwarks shall thy Dwelling fence,
Against all hostile Rage and Violence.
When thou shalt lay thy weary Limbs to rest,
No suddain Dangers shall thy Sleep molest.

To thee thy Neighbours shall in Throngs resort
To see thy Splendor, and thy Friendship Court,
And from thy Power shall humbly ask Support.
But mighty Woes the Wicked shall Assail,
In looking after Help their Eyes shall fail:
Their Hope shall vanish as a blast of Air;
How shall they scape, 'tis God denounces War?

Chap. XII.

Then Job reply'd. No doubt but you are Wise,
And may the barb'rous, sensless World despise.
You've all the Wisdom of Mankind engrost,
Can more than Humane Understanding boast.
If you should dye, the Grave and endless Night
Would overwhelm all Intellectual Light.
Blind Ignorance would unmolested reign,
And Folly Universal Empire gain.
But know, since you your Friend so hardly press,
As well as you, some Reason I possess,
Nor is its Light more dim, or Vigour less.
Yet you and I in this debate must own,
We've no great Flights of Wit, or Depths of Wisdom shown.
That God is Wise, and still does Right decree,
All other Nations grant, as well as we.
But you perversly manage the Debate,
And the true Question never justly State.
You ought to prove, that some enormous fault
Has on my Head this sore Affliction brought.
You should my close Hypocrisy detect,
Which makes th' Allmighty my Complaint reject.

Instead of this you with unnatural Pride
Your suff'ring Friend insultingly deride.
Because th' Allmighty does his Ear incline
To hear your Pray'r, while he is deaf to mine;
Because your Days are prosp'rous, you despise
And mock your Neighbour that in Torment lies.

Contempt th' afflicted Righteous Man attends,
And Scorn, instead of Pity, from his Friends.
A Man reduc'd to Misery and Want,
Who once could Honour and Abundance vaunt,
In his successful, thriving Neighbour's Sight,
Tho' like a Lamp esteem'd when fresh and bright,
Is scorn'd, when glimm'ring with expiring Light.
Yet of the Just this is the Common Fate,
While Wicked Men enjoy a prosp'rous State.
Robbers and Spoilers see their Wealth endure,
And those, who God provoke, live most secure.
With lavish hand he does his Favours throw,
And undeserv'd Rewards on these bestow.

Ask of the Beasts, the Beasts will strait return,
That they the same sad Circumstances mourn.
They'll cry, the tawny Tyrants that possess
The lawless Empire of the Wilderness,
The strip'd and spotted Monsters of the Wood,
The Bears and Wolves inur'd to Spoil and Blood,
These fat with Rapine, Peace and Power enjoy,
Yet persevere to ravage and destroy:

Mean time the harmless Flock and useful Herd,
By the Destroyer's Hand are never spar'd.
They fall, unhappy Creatures! either way,
To Men their Friends, or Beasts their Foes a Prey.
Ask all the Feather'd Nations of the Air,
They'll all with one Confed'rate Voice declare,
That the voracious Vulture and the Kite,
The Hawk and Eagle that in Blood delight,
With all the long-wing'd Rovers of the Skies,
Which Cruize among the Clouds to ken a Prize,
They'll say this rav'ning Race is most secure,
Whilst the meek Dove, and harmless Fowls endure
A thousand Mischiefs from th'Invader's Power.
Then on the Ocean's oazy Margin stand,
And of the finn'd Inhabitants demand
How 'tis with them; they'll all, as one, complain
The same unequal Fate attends the Main.
They'll cry the vast Leviathan that moves
The Deep around, and Seas before him Shoves,
With all the Spoilers, and the murth'ring Race
Of scaly Ravagers that vex the Place;
In Peace possess the Empire of the Flood,
And undisturb'd, regale themselves with Blood.
Unweildy with their Fat, without controul,
The lazy Tyrants on the Billows roll:
Pamper'd with Spoil, the wanton Monsters Sleep
Along the Shore, or Sport within the Deep.
While their Luxurious Bellies to supply
Whole Shoals of inoffensive Fishes Dy.

But whoe'er entertain'd a doubtful Thought
If God this State of Things ordain'd, or not?
Who by his Power all Beings did produce,
And by his Wisdom fix'd their end and use:
He may, his Creatures lives at Pleasure take,
They are his own, who can Objections make?
God's Soveraign Right of Empire I respect,
But this Concession can't my Cause affect.
Can you some monstrous Guilt or Error show,
Commensurate to my stupendous Woe?
Have Patience then, with an attentive Ear
My just Defence and Allegations hear.
Use a Judicious and Impartial taste,
And you'll no more unjust Reproaches cast.
You'll see with what Integrity I act,
And all your Censures rashly made, retract.

Bildad the Cause between us would refer
To antient Fathers, as less apt to err.
Wisdom I grant in Hoary Heads appears,
And Understanding is matur'd by Years;
Rarely a Beardless Oracle we know,
Judgment by Age does to Perfection grow.
But when we most our Ancestors commend,
Their greatest Wisdom can't with God's contend.
Antiquity's Traditions can't decide
Against a Rule Divine, our certain Guide.
We can't in any but th' Eternal Mind,
Councel and Knowledge in Perfection find.

God is a Mind all Intellectual Light,
Clear without Mist, without a Blemish bright.
From him the Spring those streams of Wisdom flow,
That feed the thinking, reas'ning World below.
The Wise on Earth who most deserve our Praise,
Shine but with dim and delegated Rays.

We should with equal Reverence adore
The Wonders of his Wisdom and his Power.
He levels with the Dust the proudest Town,
O'erthrows her Forts, and breaks her Bullwarks down.
Her gilded Palaces he overturns,
And her high Towers amidst the Rubbish spurns.
Her Rooms of State, and Roofs of Cedar meet,
Huddled in Ruin in th' embarrast Street.
Tho' all bewail her miserable Fall,
None dares attempt to build again her Wall.
If wretched Slaves in Prison he restrains,
Who shall release them from their pond'rous Chains?
He tyes the Clouds the Bottles of the Skies,
And to the Earth his Heav'nly Dew denies.
Then cleaving Drought the Sunburnt Mountains chap,
And for the Rain the thirsty Meadows gape.
Anon the Rivers swell at his Command,
O'erflow their Banks, and kindly drown the Land.
Wisdom and Strength are his, 'tis he imparts
To all the Crafty their successful Arts.
He shows them how to lay a wise Design,
How to Attack, and how to Countermine.

Mean time their Neighbours he of Sense bereaves,
Whom he a Prey to the Deceiver leaves.
He puzzles famous Sages in Debate,
And leads in Triumph Councellors of State.
From learned Judges Wisdom he withdraws,
And they are left, as Fools without Applause:
He haughty Monarchs Bonds and tort'ring Racks,
And all their Engines of Destruction breaks.
He Rifles all their Stores of Death and Pain,
And binds the Tyrant with the Captive's Chain.
He over-turns the Mighty in their Pride,
And makes Men, those they dreaded once, deride.
Warriours with spreading Laurels often crown'd,
Part of th' Almighty's Triumph shall be found,
Drag'd at his Chariot Wheels a Captive Throng
Of Monarch's choak'd with Dust shall pant along.
Tyrants despoil'd shall rave at their defeat,
And mixt with vulgar Slaves shall Curse and Sweat:
Princes in Chains shall in his Train appear,
And weary Kings come lagging in the Rear.
He takes their Understanding from the Wise,
And makes their Friends their Oracles despise.
He pours Contempt on Princes of the Land,
And wrests their awful Scepter from their Hand.
He sinks the mighty Warriour's Martial Fame,
And covers his once glorious Head with Shame.
Th' Almighty's bright all-penetrating Eye,
Does Councels deep and dark as Hell descry:
He sees their secret Works, and Countermines
Mysterious Statesmen's most profound Designs.

Plots wrap'd in Clouds, and Death like Shades of Night,
To him lye all expos'd, as Noon-day Light.

He gives a City wide Imperial Sway,
And does her Yoke on vanquish'd Nations lay.
She on the Necks of Captive Princes treads,
When he her Armys forth to Conquest leads;
She does with unexhausted Wealth abound,
And as a Mistress awes the World around.
Then on a suddain he corrects her Pride,
And to her Banks drives back her ebbing Tyde.
He breaks her Yoke, and rescues from her hand
The Realms he subject made to her Command.
He thro' her Streets does Desolation spread,
And casts down from the Clouds her tow'ring Head.
Great Chiefs, when he rebukes them, Cowards grow,
And all the marks of Consternation show;
His Terrors pierce their Breasts, like poison'd Darts,
Enfeeble and dismay the proudest Hearts.
For Hills and Mountains they'll forsake their Home,
And thro' the trackless Woods despairing Roam:
They'll seek the lonesom, salvage Wilderness,
There to conceal their vagabond Distress.
They and the Beasts each other shall affright,
At distance gaze, then fly each other's sight.
They ne'er shall see a Beam of dawning Hope,
But for their way involv'd in Darkness grope.
With Wrath Divine intoxicated they,
Like Drunken Men, shall Reel and lose their way.

Chap. XIII.

Since you are pleas'd oft to enumerate
God's Wise and mighty Works in this debate,
I the same Method have observ'd, to shew
That I his Wonders know, no less than you.
I do not then your long Discourses want,
To prove those Truths Divine, I freely grant.
I to th' Almighty my Defence would make,
And not to you, who still my Case mistake.
He does my Heart, and pure Intention know,
And would some Mercy, some Compassion show,
Which my relentless Friends will never do.
Perversly in the Wrong you persevere,
And to erroneous Doctrines still adhere.
You still your Thoughts with Confidence express,
That mighty Suff'rings mighty Guilt confess.
That great Afflictions and uncommon Woe,
Are marks the Wicked from the Just to know.
But you unskilful vain Physitians are,
Who know not how your Med'cine to prepare.
If the Disease by Chance be understood,
Ill Drugs you give, or misapply the Good.
Your Silence would your Wisdom best have shown,
That still had kept your Ignorance unknown.

Will you for God sophistically plead?
Does he deceitful ways of arguing need?
Will you pretend to manage his Defence,
By false Constructions of his Providence?

Will he in this your forward Zeal applaud?
And with Rewards approve your pious Fraud?
Will you the Person Try, and not the Cause,
And like corrupted Judges wrest the Laws?
Will you believe your Arguments are strong,
Because you hang upon a Cause so long?
Will your contentious Wrangling never end?
Will peevish Cavils at your injur'd Friend,
You to th' Almighty's Favour recommend?
Would it your Honour or your Peace promote,
If God your Speeches try'd, who knows your Thought?
Why will you Mock your Maker? can't his Eye
Your Pride and want of Charity descry,
Tho' cover'd with affected Piety?
If you will Right pervert and Judgment wrest,
Tho' this your Guilt lies hid within your Breast,
God will expose your Crime, and in the end
His vengeful Blow shall on your Heads descend.
His high Perfections should in you have bred,
A sacred Awe and Reverential Dread:
Should not his Power, and Truth that cannot err,
From rash Determinations you deter?

I all your Councels vain and fruitless find,
Like Dust, that flies before the driving Wind.
Your high Discourses weak and tott'ring stand,
Like heaps of Clay, or uncemented Sand.
Hold then your Peace, and let your Friend alone
To ease his Grief, and freely make his moan.

I will my Bosom of its Burden free
By sad Complaints, whate'er the Issue be.
Will God pronounce my Failing mortal Sin,
When he discerns an upright Heart within?
For Liberty of Speech so much I long,
To vent my Woe, my Passion is so strong;
That if deny'd, I must in deep Despair,
Despise my Life, my Flesh in pieces tear.
Tho' God yet hotter Anger should express,
And with redoubled strokes my Pains increase;
Tho' he advances with his glitt'ring Dart,
And o'er me stands to strike me to the Heart;
I on his Truth and Justice would rely,
And with strong Faith would to his Mercy fly.
Th' Almighty knows my Virtue is sincere,
I'm not flagitious, tho' I often err.
The Faithful God the Faithful will protect,
Scourge them he may, but can't the Just reject.
I'll undertake with humble Confidence,
Before his Bar to manage my Defence.
Whatever Blots my Conversation stain,
I still can my Integrity maintain.
I'm sure the God whose Mercy I implore,
My Peace and Comforts will at last restore:
By Methods and by Ways which please him best,
My Burden he'll remove, and give me rest.

My Declaration with Attention hear,
My Words shall make my Righteousness appear.

The Method I have fix'd for my Defence,
I do not doubt will clear my Innocence.
Who'll with me plead? Oh! that it was my Fate
That God would please to manage this debate.
For if in such a strait I should not speak,
My Heart distended with my Grief would break.
My Friends Reproaches, and th' Almighty's Hand
Which lies so heavy, my Complaints demand.
Let but th' Almighty grant my double Pray'r,
And I'll with Courage stand before his Bar:
Let him withdraw his Hand, my Pains suspend,
And give me ease my Tryal to attend;
In Power and Glory let him not appear,
But my Defence with gracious Meekness hear;
Then let th' Almighty me arraign at large,
And I'll defend my self against the Charge.
Or I will argue, and let him declare
The reason why his Hand is thus severe.
I'm not so vain and wicked to pretend,
That I th' Almighty's Laws did ne'er offend;
But that my Crimes are of so deep a dy,
As you my Friends suggest, I must deny.
Detect these Crimes that are to me unknown,
And I'll the Guilt with Shame and Sorrow own.

Why in Displeasure dost thou shun my Sight,
And of thy gracious Eyes withdraw the Light?
Why hangs this Cloud upon thy frowning Brow?
Why treatest thou thy Servant, as thy Foe?

Wilt thou to crush me needless Power engage,
Lavish of Vengeance, and profuse of Rage?
Wilt thou thy keen Immortal Arms employ,
A poor and helpless Mortal to destroy?
Wilt thou involv'd in rolling Clouds descend,
And arm'd with Thunder with a Worm contend?
Should Storms arise a sapless Leaf to tear
The sport of every Wind and blast of Air?
Must Tempests rage, and pointed Light'ning fly,
And dreadful War infest the troubled Sky,
Only to chase the empty Straw away,
To every Spark of Fire an easie Prey?
Me, as a Malefactor God indicts,
And terrible Decrees against me writes.
Stern Justice gripes me in her rigid Arms,
And youthful Guilt afresh my Soul alarms.
Thou dost my fetter'd Limbs in Prison lay,
And then with Care dost all my Paths survey;
Dost closely at my very Heels pursue,
And with a searching Eye my Footsteps view.
To mark some great Transgression of thy Laws,
And for my Condemnation find a Cause:
Then Putrefaction executes the Doom,
And does my Flesh, as Moths a Vest, consume.

Chap. XIV.

Unhappy Man as soon as Born decays,
He numbers few, and those uneasy Days.
As in a verdant Mead a blowing Flower,
The suddain Offspring of a Summer Shower,

Unfolds its Beauty to the Morning Ray,
But is e'er Evening Cut, or fades away:
So Man a while displays his gawdy Bloom,
But Death her crooked Scyth does soon assume,
Mows down, and bears her Harvest to the Tomb.
He, as a Shadow, or a Shape of Air,
Does suddainly dissolve and disappear.
The Flame of Life does, as a Lambent Fire,
Or Evening Meteor Shine, and strait expire.
And wilt thou Man regard, and condescend
With such a Wretch in Judgment to contend?
I am deriv'd from Man's infected Race,
A piece extracted from the tainted Mass.
Man propagates th' Hereditary Crime,
Nor does the Stain wear out by length of time.
From a base Stock can Noble Branches grow,
Or Crystal Streams from muddy Fountains flow?
I therefore can't a faultless Life protest,
I own Offences common to the best;
Unclean I am, but not above the Rest.
This is the thing I humbly would demand,
Why I am singled out, and made to stand
The chiefest Mark of God's avenging hand.

Since thou dost know Man's Days, and canst relate
Their number written in the Rolls of Fate,
And hast determin'd Lifes laborious Race,
And set the Bounds o'er which it cannot pass;
Since his few fleeting Hours are quickly spent,
And painful Life is its own Punishment;

Let this suffice, and do not on him throw
A crushing weight of superadded Woe.
Grant him the Rest his Torments make him ask;
And let him finish Life's appointed Task.
For if a Swain with mercenary toil
Cuts down a Tree, and drags away the Spoil;
Still there is hope that Tree again may sprout,
And from its Stock thrust tender-Branches out.
For tho' the Root defrauded of Supply,
Appears to Wither in the Ground, and Dy;
Yet when it feels the fresh prolific Flood,
It will again with youthful Vigour bud.
But when a dying Man resigns his Breath,
He ne'er returns from the dark Shades of Death.
The Sea may suffer by deserting Waves
That steal thro' secret subterranean Caves,
Or by the lighter Steams which fly away,
Drawn by the Sun's attenuating Ray;
But Heav'n and Earth in Rivers and in Rain
Restore their Spoils, and reimburse the Main.
A flowing River, or a standing Lake,
May their dry Banks and naked Shores forsake;
Their Waters may exhale, and upwards move,
Their Channel leave to roll in Clouds above;
But the returning Winter will restore,
What in the Summer they had lost before:
The Snow and Rain, and Torrents, will repay
What the warm Sun stole with his plund'ring Ray,
And by his Summer Inroads bore away.

But if, O Man, thy vital Streams desert
Their Purple Channels, and defraud the Heart,
With fresh Recruits they ne'er will be supply'd,
Nor feel their leaping Life's returning Tyde.
When once the breathless Man has clos'd his Eyes,
And in the silent Grave extended lies;
In Death's close Prison he shall still remain,
He ne'er shall break from the rough Tyrant's Chain.
When the last stroke of Fate is once receiv'd,
This mortal Life can never be retriev'd.

Would God would hide me in some hollow Cave,
Some place as safe, and silent, as the Grave;
Till these black Storms of Wrath which overcast,
The low'ring Heav'n's around my Head are past.
As he has done to Life, so let him set
Bounds to my Grief, and not those Bounds forget.
Since none who enter once the darksome Tomb,
This mortal Life can afterwards resume;
'Tis best for me with patient Hope to wait,
Till God is pleas'd to change this mournful State.
Till he is pleas'd his Blessings to restore,
Those sweet Enjoyments I possess'd before.
Then shall he call, and with a gracious Ear
He'll my Defence and Supplications hear.
Then to his Creature he will Kindness show,
Revive my Comforts, and remove my Woe.

But oh! how different is my present Fate;
For now th' Allmighty loves to lye in wait

To take me halting, what a watchful Eye
Does he employ my Errors to descry?
This search he makes, as if he Pleasure took,
To find fresh Reasons to repeat his Stroke.
He in a strong and secret place has stor'd
My Sins; as wealthy Men their Treasures hoard.
He Seals up my Transgressions, not a fault
Is e'er left out, not an ill Word or Thought;
Nor is th' impending Punishment forgot.
As a high Hill with stormy Weather worn,
With inbred Tempests, or with Thunder torn,
Does with its Ruins all the Vally spread,
But can no more erect his lofty Head:
Moulder'd to Dust, it hopes no more to break
The Clouds long Order with its snowy Peak.
As a vast Rock by Earthquakes once remov'd,
And from its Base amidst the Ocean shov'd;
It's shatter'd Pillars never after reers,
Nor thrusts his tow'ring Top amidst the Stars.
As Stones which ever-flowing Waters wear,
When once dissolv'd, their Ruins ne'er repair.
As sweeping Inundations oft convey
Towns, Herds, and Forrests floating to the Sea,
Whence to return they never find a way.
So when thy fatal Darts a Man destroy,
The World's Delights he shall no more enjoy.
He never from the Sepulcher shall rise,
No more revive to see the lightsome Skies.
He leaves his Honour and his Wealth behind,
And quite another Face of things will find.

He's unconcern'd at what's transacted here;
For if his Sons shine in a noble Sphere,
He'll not rejoyce, nor will he e'er complain
If they are crush'd, and drag the Pris'ners Chain.
Hard Fate of Man, who either, if he dies
Hopeless of e'er reviving, mould'ring lies;
Or if he lives, must still expect to find
Pain in his Flesh, and Anguish in his Mind.

Chap. XV.

Then Eliphaz.

Should a Wise Man, and such thou wouldst appear,
Make us such fruitless, frothy Language hear?
Much less with Tempests should we be addrest,
Words fierce and stormy, as the Wind at East.
Of Idle Words why this Eternal Flood?
Can these vain Speeches e'er promote thy Good?
True Piety, which should thy Mind adorn
Thou hast expos'd to universal scorn.
All Reverence to pure Religion due,
Will soon be lost, if thy Assertion's true.
If God's afflicting Strokes Mankind invade,
Without distinguishing the Good and Bad,
Who at his Throne will Adoration pay?
Who will to Heav'n their Songs of Praise convey?
Thy Irreligious Maxims will restrain
All future Pray'r, for Pray'r will be in vain.
Thy bold irreverent Speeches have exprest
Th' Impiety which has thy Mind possest.

The Poison which thy Lips discharge, is part
Of the malignant Treasure in thy Heart.
Yet thou, unwary Judges to escape,
Beneath Divine Religion's lovely shape,
Hast all thy black Hypocrisy conceal'd,
Which thy uncautious Tongue has now reveal'd.
Thou by thy own Defence art clearly cast,
And thy own Mouth has Sentence on thee past.

Art thou the Man that God did first Create?
And has thy Birth with Time an equal date?
What didst thou live before th' imprison'd Light,
At God's Command sprang from the Womb of Night?
Before aspiring Hills the Plains survey'd,
Or verdant Meads their flowry Laps display'd;
Before the Rocks their Craggy Ridges reer'd,
Or bounding Billows in the Deep appear'd;
That by unnumber'd Observations made,
Thou hast a perfect Scheme of Knowledge laid?
Dost thou the long, uninterrupted Chain
Of Causes and Effects so well retain,
That thou canst reason right, and clearly see
From what is past, what shall hereafter be?
Have thy Enquiries and Experience, run
Thro' all the years roll'd up, since Time begun,
That thou art full of Science, richer far
In wise Remarks, than we thy Brethren are?
Dost thou with God in secret Council sit?
To his Debates does he wise Job admit?

Does Wisdom with her Fav'rite Job abide,
Despising all the foolish Race beside?
On what new Worlds of Light hast thou been thrown?
What Mines of Knowledge found, to us unknown?

If years, of Wisdom were a certain sign,
Our years are not inferiour found to thine.
With us is seen th' experienc'd, hoary Head,
Who does in Age thy Father far exceed.
Why as a worthless thing dost thou regard
The Joy, the Comfort, and the blest Reward
Which we have offer'd thee with Heav'n's assent,
If of thy wicked Deeds thou shalt Repent?
Hast thou (we ask thee) some peculiar ground,
Some secret way of Consolation found?
Should'st thou to such Discov'rys make pretence,
Thou wouldst expose thy wondrous Impudence:
And yet without uncommon grounds of Hope,
Nothing but stubborn Pride can underprop
Thy Confidence, and our Proposals stop.
Wilt thou dishonour with unworthy Speech
Thy Maker, and his Providence impeach?
What does this Conduct mean? with what intent
Against thy God are thy Reproaches sent?
What is the mark at which thou takest aim,
When thou dost boldly War with Heav'n proclaim?
From such a War what benefit can flow?
What canst thou gain by Force from such a Foe?
Ah! what is wretched Man, that he should seem
All pure, and guiltless in his own esteem?

Blest Seraphs can't his piercing Eye endure;
Before him bright Arch-Angels are impure.
Those Heav'nly Orders who were clean esteem'd,
And all refin'd and spotless Glory seem'd,
When they appear within th' Almighty's sight,
O'erwhelm'd with splendor, and all-searching Light,
They blush to see their secret Stains reveal'd,
And Specks and Flaws which lay before conceal'd.
Then what an odious, loathsome, monstrous Thing
Must Man appear before th' Eternal King?
Who by impure Traduction is unclean,
And does to Vice with a strong Byass lean.
Who with vast Draughts of Sin himself extends,
And with Hydropic Thirst for more contends.

To my Discourse attentively advert,
I'll only what my Eyes have seen assert:
That is, that wicked Men, and those alone
Beneath such great, uncommon Suff'rings groan.
Wise Men this Observation made of Old,
Their Fathers them, and they their Children told.
Thus has Tradition down from Ages past
Convey'd this Truth, which is by us embrac't.
Job has affirm'd, that God the Earth bestows
On the vile Race of his invet'rate Foes:
But to our Fathers Judgment have respect,
And they this groundless Error will detect.
Wealth and Dominion was on them confer'd,
Their Piety and Virtue to reward.

They did in Peace command the Towns around,
And undisturb'd with Inroads, till'd the ground.
No arm'd Chaldeans did their Herds invade,
Or to a Land remote their Wealth convey'd.
While they obey'd his Laws, th' Almighty's Hand
Was still extended to protect their Land.
To Leagues of Peace their Neighbours did agree,
And to maintain them, God was Guarantee.

On th'other hand, 'tis by experience plain,
That wicked Men consume their Days in pain.
Th'Oppressor still is grip'd with inward Fears,
Nor shall compleat the number of his years.
When no invading Foe appears in Arms,
His secret Guilt the trembling Wretch alarms.
He in his prosp'rous State is unsecure,
Nor can his guilty Triumphs long endure.
When in his Sphere he shines serenely bright,
And not a Cloud disturbs his beaming Light,
Then shall a Tempest of Affliction rise,
And with a suddain Darkness spread the Skies.
Neighbours to Rapine bred shall from afar,
As late on thee, advance destructive War.
The bloody Spoilers shall his Servants slay,
Ravage his Lands, and make his Herds a Prey.
Like Job in trouble, they'll despairing ly,
And Consolation from their Friends deny.
They can't believe these Clouds will disappear,
Great Ills they suffer, and they greater fear.

Despair attended with her ghastly Train
Anguish, Confusion, Sorrow, howling Pain
Shall at her hideous Army's Head advance,
And shake against his Breast her bloody Lance.
She'll draw her Troops of Terrors in array,
Muster her Griefs, and horrid War display.
As Kings for Fight their Warlike Ranks dispose,
So shall she range her thick, embattled Woes.
The Victor thus the Wicked shall assail,
And o'er the proud Oppressor's Hopes prevail.
This is his End, for that with Hellish Rage,
Th'audacious Wretch would against Heav'n engage.
Against th' Almighty's Host he takes the Field,
And runs upon his Spear and dreadful Shield.
He does defiance of his God express,
Deride his fiery Darts, and on his Thunder press.
Pamper'd with Spoil of ruin'd Neighbours round,
Sleek with his Fat, and with Dominion crown'd;
Luxurious, Haughty, and Presumptuous grown,
He spurns at Heav'n, and mocks th' Almighty's Throne.
His Cruelty has laid his Country wast,
And Cities full of Men and Wealth defac'd.
Those who survive in secret Corners weep,
Or thro' the grassy Streets desponding creep.
The empty Dwellings mossy Heaps appear,
And all the Signs of suddain Ruin wear.
But God will soon despoil him of his Power,
Nor shall his Wealth and Greatness long endure.
Black Seas of stagnant Darkness round him spread,
And Night Eternal shall involve his Head.

Th' Almighty's Lightnings shall destroy his Fruit,
Blast his green Leaves, and kill his spreading Root.
His angry Breath shall as a Tempest tare
His Branches off, and drive them thro' the Air.

Let therefore none on Power and Wealth depend,
These from approaching Evils can't defend,
Their Promises are vain, and vanity their end.
Whoe'er in these deceitful Friends confide,
Untimely Ruin shall correct their Pride.
Suddain Destruction shall their Heads invade,
And all their Fruit and verdant Pomp shall fade.
As when a rough East Wind, or Storm of Hail
The fruitful Olive, or the Vine assail,
Their flowry Pride the Olive Branches shed,
And unripe Grapes shook off, the Vineyard spred:
So shall th' Oppressors gawdy Pomp decay,
So his fair Limbs and Beauty fade away.
His Sons and Friends shall meet as sad a Doom,
And vengeful Fire their Dwellings shall consume.
His lab'ring Brain dire Mischief does contrive,
And black Deceit his teeming Heart conceive.
But he shall bring his own Destruction forth,
As Vipers dye to give their Offspring Birth.

Chap. XVI.

Then Job reply'd, Oft has my suff'ring Ear,
Such vain Discourses been compell'd to hear.
You, cruel Comforters! enrage my Woe,
You neither Skill, nor yet Compassion show.

With tedious Repetitions you abound,
Keep your old Track, and argue in a Round.
But will your empty Speeches never end,
Disarm'd and vanquish'd, will you still contend?
What has embolden'd thee O Eliphaz,
Still to reply, tho' never to my Case?
Were my Afflictions yours, with how much ease
Could I such Language find, such Words as these?
Uncharitably Pious I could grow,
Like pointed Arrows sharp Reproaches throw,
And with as good a Grace deride your Woe.
But my Compassion would my Lips restrain
From galling Words, that might increase your Pain.
I to support you would extend my Arms,
And sooth your Anguish with the softest Charms.
My tender Accents should your Fate condole,
And balmy Language ease your tortur'd Soul.
Why should not you with equal Zeal engage
Your utmost Skill, my Anguish to asswage?

How sad a Fate is mine, if I complain
To God or Man, I make my Moan in vain.
If by forbearing I expect Relief,
And stop the stream of my complaining Grief,
Its Flood increases when forbid to flow,
And the rough Waves more formidable grow.
In higher Seas collected Sorrows roll,
And whelm their Deluge o'er my sinking Soul.
Opprest beneath the pond'rous load I lye,
Weary of living, yet deny'd to dye.

My Sons, my Servants, and my Substance gone,
I am deserted, desolate, undone.
Tho' you produce my Sores and wrinkled Skin
As Witnesses of some enormous Sin,
Yet they can only testify the weight
Of those vast Woes, which my Complaints create.

God, as a fierce, relentless Foe appears,
And in his Fury me in pieces tears.
He grinds his raging Teeth, and from his Eyes
A Flame against me keen, as Light'ning flies.
My Friends elated with prodigious Pride,
Stand gaping on me, and my Grief deride.
From distant parts they come, not to asswage
My Anguish, but my Suff'rings to enrage.
God has expos'd me likewise to the Bands
Of fierce invaders from the neighb'ring Lands,
And giv'n me up a Prey to impious hands.
My Dwelling flourish'd, and I liv'd at ease,
With Plenty blest, and the soft Joys of Peace;
When God denounc'd his unexpected War,
And with his Darts did me asunder tare.
Me in his griping Arms th' Almighty took,
And with such mighty force my body shook,
That all my Members were in pieces broke.
He sets me as a mark on rising ground,
And his fierce Archers compass me around.
In Showers of singing Death their Arrows fly,
And in my tortur'd Entrails buried ly.

My Gall, so deep, so mortal is the Wound,
As well as Blood, flows out and stains the Ground.
Black throngs of Woes invade my frighted Soul,
As crowding Billows on each other roll.
Th' Almighty runs upon me in his rage,
As a fierce Gyant eager to engage.
Sackcloth I wear, of Ornaments despoil'd,
And in the Dust my Glory lies defil'd.
My Cheeks with Everlasting Weeping fade,
And on my Eye-lids hangs a dismal shade.

Yet no Injustice does in Job appear,
As you my Friends unkindly would infer,
Pure is my Prayer, my Heart within sincere.
If e'er a Man by my flagitious hand
Vext and Opprest, has perish'd from the Land,
Let not thy Womb, O Earth, his Blood conceal,
But to the Light my black Offence reveal;
That publique Shame and Pains may be my Fate,
Which on the heinous Malefactor wait.
Let God and Man their Bowels shut, when I
In deadly Torment for Compassion cry.
Conscience alone, my awful Judge within,
Does not acquit me of enormous Sin,
But God and all his sacred Angels, bear
Witness to this, and will my Justice clear.
From you my Friends, who my Distress deride,
I turn to Heav'n, let Heav'n my Cause decide.
If God his just Tribunal would ascend,
To hear how you accuse, and I defend;

If he, as Arbitrator, would preside,
And weigh the Reasons urg'd on either side;
From your Indictment he would me release,
And I, my Virtue clear'd, should dye in Peace.
And, O, that God would soon my Tryal hear,
And Judgment give before I disappear.
For when a few more fleeting days are past,
I in the Arms of Death shall lye embrac't.

Ch. XVII.

Corruption my consuming Flesh devours,
And Time has almost paid my number'd hours.
The opening Grave invites me to her Womb,
And in the Dust prepares to give me Room.
But clear, before I dye, just God, my Fame,
And cover my perfidious Friends with Shame:
For do not pious Scoffers here abide,
Who mock for God, and all my Groans deride?
Their sharp Reproaches vex my Soul by Day,
And chase by Night my wish'd-for Sleep away.
Would God on high would suffer me to state
My Case aright, and hear the whole Debate.
For these my Friends against th' Assaults of Sense
Have rais'd a strong impenetrable Fence.
Such Gates of Darkness ne'er to be unbarr'd,
Such Forts of gloomy Shades the Passes guard,
That Reason's strongest Forces they repel,
Entrench'd in Errors inaccessible.
But sure the Righteous God will ne'er permit,
That Men so blinded should to Judge me sit.

Those, who to flatter Heav'n their Neighbour wrong,
Shall not their Power and prosp'rous days prolong.
Destructive Suff'rings shall their Sons assail,
Whose Eyes in looking after Aid shall fail.

I was the People's Darling and Delight
In former times; for when I came in sight,
Thro' crowded Streets loud Acclamations rung,
They to the Tabret my loud Praises sung;
And on my Chariot Wheels transported hung.
A waving Sea of Heads was round me spred,
And still fresh Streams the gazing Deluge fed.
As I advanc'd, the eager, wond'ring Throng
Their Eye-balls strain'd, to see me pass along;
They feasted on me with their greedy Eyes,
And with Applauses fill'd th' ecchoing Skies.

Now, for as sad an Object I am shown;
My wondrous Troubles are Proverbial grown.
The Men who curse their Foes with deadly spite,
Wish Job's Affliction on their heads may light.
My Neighbours cry, when they my Suff'rings see,
Is Job thus chang'd? Good Heav'n's! it cannot be.
My Eyes with Sorrow sunk within my Head,
Of Light defrauded, seem already dead.
So much my Flesh and Vigour I have lost,
I seem an empty Shade, or groaning Ghost.
But the Good Man will pity, not arraign
Afflicted Job, to aggravate his Pain.

He will revere this Providential Turn,
Not judge my Person, but my Suff'rings mourn.
Tho' he with wonder shall observe the Just,
Are by th' Almighty trodden in the Dust,
Yet he with sacred Indignation prest,
Shall shun the Wicked, and his way detest.
He for afflicted Virtue shall declare,
And Innocence to prosp'rous Sin prefer.
He shall the Heav'nly Path of Justice keep,
However rough, embarast, dark and steep.
Let him by bloody Out-laws be opprest,
And Robbers, who the Way to Heav'n infest;
Let Persecution's blackest Storm arise,
And with a dismal Night deform the Skies;
Let stern Affliction muster in the Air
Her fiercest Troops, to drive him to despair;
Let bitter Tongues their sharp Reproaches spend,
And impious Scoffers galling Arrows send;
The God-like Trav'ller shall his Path pursue,
Whose very Suff'rings shall his Hopes renew.
He'll with undaunted Courage make his way;
Danger his Heart shall strengthen, not dismay.

But you my Friends, to my Discourse attend,
And weigh my Words your Errors to amend.
For hitherto I can't among you find,
One of a clear, judicious, equal Mind.
You would in vain my Expectations raise,
(If I Repent) of future prosp'rous Days.

For my appointed Hours are almost past,
My Hopes and Projects Death will quickly blast.
The Lamp of Life burns dimly in my Breast,
Soon from its beating toil my weary Heart will rest.
If for a happy Change you lay a Scheme,
You but amuse me with an empty Dream,
Terrestrial Joys are but an idle Theme.
With my Designs and anxious Thoughts I part,
Farewel ye Cares, that once possest my Heart.
I to my Sorrows only can attend,
In groans the Day, in groans the Night I spend.
If Grief and Woe denominate the Night,
I ne'er enjoy the Day, or see the Light.
The gloomy Terrors that my Soul surround,
Efface its marks, and Day with Night confound.

Alass 'tis madness to expect that Rest
And Restoration, which my Friends suggest;
For by a fixt, irrevocable Doom,
My Grave's prepar'd, my everlasting Home:
Where friendly Death has laid my easy Bed,
With Dust beneath, around with Darkness spread.
I to the Grave have said, O Parent Grave,
Me of thy Dust, a wretched Offspring save.
To take me in, thy gloomy Arms extend,
Thou art my Father, O be now my Friend;
And me from hostile Life and Light defend.
I to the Worm have said, my Brother Worm,
From whom I differ but in Shape and Form;

Submitted to thy Power, I soon must lay
This loathsome Heap of putrifying Clay.
Where's then the Hope which you pretend to give,
That I may yet in Peace and Pleasure live,
If I Repent, to see it you must go
Down to the Grave, and the Cold Shades below.
There you may see how all my Hopes and I,
In the same Grave together buried lye:

Ch. XVIII.

Then Bildad thus:

When wilt thou finish thy prolix Discourse,
Sounding indeed enough, but void of Force?
Consider what shall be alledg'd, and then
To thy Objections we'll reply agen.
What does thy wondrous Arrogance create?
What self-sufficient Fulness thee elate?
What secret Stores of Wisdom hast thou found,
And what new Lights have thy Enquiries crown'd?
That we such vile and sensless Creatures seem,
And are but stupid Beasts in thy esteem?
Impatience and ungovernable Rage,
Thy furious Hands against thy Self engage.
Thy wild Discourses from Distraction flow,
And not Repentance, but Rebellion show.

What to appease thy peevish Discontent,
Shall God new Forms of Government invent?
Shall Providence new ways and measures take,
And steddy Nature her old Course forsake?

Shall Rocks and Mountains from their Pillars leap,
Sink down, and humble their aspiring Heap?
Shall Floods and rapid Rivers sullen grow,
Bind up their Waters, and refuse to flow?
Shall God his Truth and Justice disregard,
Neglect the Righteous, and th' unjust reward?
Shall he subvert all Order, with intent
Thy vain Complaints and Clamours to prevent?
O Job, in spite of thy Objections, take
This Rule as sure, that God will ever make
A due distinction of the Good and Bad,
And sparing those, his Wrath shall these invade.

The Splendor of the Wicked shall decay,
And rising Fogs shall choak his glorious Day.
His brightest Beams, like short-liv'd Sparks of Fire,
Or Flashing Light'ning shine, and strait expire.
Thick Darkness equal to the Shades of Hell,
Shall on his dismal Habitation dwell.
Ne'er from without shall one kind Ray of Light,
Or chearful Lamp within dispel the Night.
He in his wisest steps shall unawares,
Be fetter'd with inextricable Snares;
He'll live in Trouble and perplexing Cares.
By his Projections and his deep Designs,
He his own Peace and Safety undermines.
Into the Net himself has spread he'll run,
Wisely destroy'd, and prudently undone.
His Feet shall be entangled in the toil,
And shouting Hunters seize him as their spoil.

Let him o'er Plains, or Hills, or Forrests stray,
Inevitable Gins obstruct his way,
Which shall entrap this roaming Beast of Prey.
Invading Terrors shall his Soul affright,
The Wretch shall fly, but perish in his Flight.
His Bones the Pillars of his Fabrick crack,
His Joynts grow feeble, and his Sinews slack.
Fierce rav'ning Woes his Flesh and Strength consume,
And Desolation is his heavy Doom.
Death and Destruction o'er his head impend;
All his soft Pleasures shall in Torment end.
The Pillars which his Confidence did prop,
Shall let the high presumptuous Structure drop,
And in the Ruins bury all his Hope.
The King of Terrors with his bloody Dart,
Shall strike the pale Oppressor to the Heart;
Then at his gloomy Wheels shall drag the Slave,
In triumph to his subterranean Cave.
Torments, destructive Plagues, and raging Pain,
Shall horrid Inmates in his House remain.
Triumphant Woe with hideous Terrors crown'd,
Anguish with all her Agonies around,
Wild Consternation with erected Hair,
Yellings, Distress, and sullen mute Despair,
Th' Apartments of his Dwelling shall divide,
And dire Companions with him shall reside.
Because his rich Possessions and Abode,
By Violence were gotten, or by Fraud.
When falling Floods of Fire, and Sulphur Showers,
O'erturn'd high Sodom's and Gomorrah's Towers,

The flaming Inundation from the place,
Swept off their Dwellings, and the impious Race.
So shall the proud Oppressor be devour'd,
Such Fire and Brimstone on his Palace pour'd;
Which shall all Marks and Monuments destroy,
Of the vile Wretch, that did the Seat enjoy.
His Roots grown dry, shall perish in the ground,
His Head and Limbs cut off shall lye around.
In after-times he'll be unknown to Fame,
Or mention'd only with Reproach and Shame.
From off the Earth God's vengeful Darts shall chase
The wicked Man, and all his hateful Race.
No Offspring in his Dwelling shall remain,
His Family and Honour to sustain.
Ages to come with Horror shall relate
His suddain Ruin, and his dismal Fate;
As that he liv'd in, was amaz'd to see
So strange a Turn, such Woe and Misery.
So shall the Hopes of all the wicked end,
Such Desolation does their House attend.

Ch. XIX.

Then Job reply'd:

How long will you my righteous Cause perplex?
How long my Ears with idle Speeches vex?
Must Answers void of Sense and Argument,
And grave Impertinence my Soul torment?
You wound me with your contumelious words,
And slanders sharper than the keenest Swords.

Job in Affliction you refuse to know,
And a shy Stranger's unconcernness show.
Grant I have sinn'd, yet in my Flesh I bear
Strokes of vindictive Justice so severe,
That I with Reason might from Friends expect
Commiseration, not such proud neglect.
If you with such censorious Arrogance,
And haughty words against me will advance;
If you will still such black Indictments read,
If you will still my Innocence implead,
Consider coolly my afflicted State;
Should your imperious scorn new Grief create,
And to th' unequal load add greater weight?

I by th' Almighty's Arm am overthrown,
And prest beneath his heavy Vengeance groan.
Inevitable Snares his hand has set,
And drawn around me his destructive Net.
To Heav'n with fruitless Accents I complain
Of this hard measure, this excess of Pain,
And Cry to be redress'd, but Cry in vain.
By Heav'n forsaken, I am left a Prey
To Woes, that me encompass every way.
Inexorably Deaf th' Almighty stands,
Rejects my Prayer, and minds not my Demands.
He in my Paths has such Obstructions laid,
And fenc'd me in with such a close Blockade;
That I must ever lye without Relief
In this dark Prison, this Strong-hold of Grief.

No golden thread of Light the way will show,
And let me thro' this Labyrinth of Woe.
Of all my Glory I am stript, the Crown
From my dishonour'd Head is fallen down;
I've lost my Power, my Children, my Renown.
I'm perfectly destroy'd, I'm lost, undone
And never to return, my Hope is gone.
A miserable Object here I lye,
A Wretch that would not live, and cannot dye.

His Fury kindles of its own accord,
And unprovok'd, he waves his glitt'ring Sword;
Against me as his Foe, he throws his Dart,
And yet he knows my Zeal, and upright Heart.
Black Troops of Suff'rings, Regimented Woes
In Battle drawn, their swarming Throngs disclose;
On me they come, and marking out the Ground,
Th' Infernal Legions lye encamp'd around.
Brethren and Kindred treat me as unknown,
Break Nature's Bonds, and their own Blood disown.
Familiar Friends, who kindly me embrac't,
Forget me now, and all our Friendship past.
Those of my Houshold in Rebellion rise,
Mock me their Lord, and my Commands despise.
I to my Servant for Assistance cry,
He minds me not, but Scoffing passes by,
And lets me helpless and neglected lye.
My sore Disease does from my Presence fright
My Wife, and makes her to abhor my sight.

Tho' I my earnest Supplication make,
And beg and pray for our dear Childrens sake,
Those tender Pledges of our mutual Love,
Yet no entreaties her Compassion move.
She will not stay to help me in distress,
And by condoling words her Love express.
Disdainful Youth and Children me despise,
Tho' to salute them, from my Seat I rise.
My bosom Friends, whom chiefly I before
Esteem'd and lov'd, now chiefly me abhor.
My Skin and Flesh are perish'd from the Bone,
The Boils have spar'd my Mouth and Lips alone,
To let me make my lamentable moan.

Some Pity, O my Friends, some Pity take
On my distress, for antient Friendship's sake.
I am abandon'd, and despairing left,
Of Riches, Honour, Children, Friends bereft.
Remark the grievous Wounds my sore Disease
Has made thro' all my Flesh, but what are these
Compar'd with those, which in my Soul I feel,
Inflicted by th' Almighty's fatal Steel?
O, then in soft Compassion's Arms relent,
Retract your Speeches, and my Fate lament.
Will you assume the Priviledge of God,
And when you please, afflict me with your Rod?
Inhumane Friends! say, does it not suffice,
That all consum'd with pain my Body lies;
But you my Soul with ill Discourses wound,
Empty of Sense, tho' they with Gall abound.

O, that my Speech was written, that my Words
Were Register'd, and kept in safe Records!
O, that an Iron Pen's repeated stroke,
Would grave deep Furrows in the Marble Rock!
Let Letters fill them up of inlaid Lead,
That all to come may my Profession read.
I solemnly pronounce, that I believe
That my Redeemer does for ever live.
When future Ages shall their Circuit end,
And Bankrupt Time shall its last Minute spend,
Then he from Heav'n in Triumph shall descend.
He on the Surface of the Earth shall stand,
And from the Grave his Captive Saints demand.
The slumb'ring Dead shall waken at his Call,
And from their Limbs their Leaden Chains shall fall.
Victorious Life at his Command shall flee
To vanquish Death, and set her Pris'ners free.
It shall new warmth and vital Vigour spread,
Thro' all the cold Apartments of the Dead.
It shall in Triumph march thro' Shades beneath,
Thro' all the dusty Galleries of Death.
Th' invading Conquerour shall Sack the Grave,
Force every Tomb, and rescue ev'ry Slave.
Destruction's Empire shall no longer last,
Death from her sad Dominions shall be chas't,
And Desolation laid for ever wast.
From opening Tombs th' enliven'd Dead shall rise,
And to enjoy the Light lift up their wond'ring eyes.

Tho' Worms and Putrefaction shall consume
This mortal Body in the silent Tomb,
I shall revive, and from the Grave arise,
And see my God with these corporeal Eyes.
I for my Self shall see the blessed sight,
For my own Profit, for my vast Delight.
He shall my Virtue from your Slanders clear,
Assert my Cause, and Job pronounce sincere.
This is th' unshaken Pillar of my Hope,
This does my Soul opprest with Sorrow prop;
That tho', as I have said, the rav'ning Worm
Shall eat my Flesh, and break this mortal Form,
My reunited Parts I shall assume,
When my Redeemer does to Judgment come,
For ever to be clear'd by an impartial Doom.

But you my Friends, no doubt will still aver,
That Persecuting me you do not err.
You'll say, that in my Conduct may be found,
For your Censorious words abundant ground.
But of th' Almighty's Justice be afraid,
His dreadful Vengeance will your Heads invade.
He will from Heav'n consuming Wrath reveal,
Against all fierce, uncharitable Zeal.
The Day is coming, when the Judge supream
Will your rash Words and Cruelty condemn.

Ch. XX.

He said, and Zophar thus in heat reply'd:
Such is thy Obstinacy, such thy Pride;

With such disdain thou dost our Reasons slight,
And art so careful to exclude the Light;
All thy own Words so full and weighty seem
To thee, sufficient in thy own esteem:
That I no farther Argument design'd,
To Cure a Man so obstinately Blind.
But since transported to a wild excess,
Thou dost against thy Friends such Threats express;
Since thou dost Heav'n with thy Complaints alarm,
And mark us out for God's vindictive Arm;
I must my setled Resolution break;
For thus provok'd, who can forbear to speak?

Thou dost upbraid us, as of Sense bereft,
Without Compassion, without Justice left.
That we Contempt and Shame would on thee pour,
And like outrageous Beasts thy Life devour.
But I that fully know thy gross mistake,
Can't silent sit, but must an Answer make.
Hast thou, who mak'st to Wisdom such pretence,
Not yet remark'd the Course of Providence?
How since the Earth's Foundations first were laid,
Thro' all the Revolutions Time has made,
The Triumphs of th' unjust have quickly past,
And his vain Joys did but a moment last.
Tho' his bright Head above the Clouds he reers,
And mingles Lustre with contiguous Stars,
O'erturn'd and ruin'd he deserts the Skies,
And in the Dust dispers'd in Fragments lies.

Th' unrighteous perish with a swift decay,
Like his own Ordure cast with Scorn away.
Those who before his Glory did admire,
Now seiz'd with Wonder, for his Place enquire.
Astonish'd, they these questions oft repeat,
Where can we find him now? where is his Seat?
His Fame and short-liv'd Glory disappear,
Like thin Illusions form'd of gawdy Air.
Like wanton Dreams that in the Fancy play,
Or empty Phantomes that by Twilight stray.
The Eye that saw him ne'er shall see him more,
Ne'er shall his House again unfold to him her Door.
His Children strive t'appease the Poor in vain,
These of their Suff'rings publiquely complain;
Those to restore their Substance are compell'd,
Which from the Poor their griping Father held.
With Vice decrepit, he perceives within,
The sad effects of his past youthful Sin.
His wasted Flesh and putrifying Bones,
Force him to utter never-ceasing moans.
As he to Sin did with Affection cleave,
So Sin too faithful him shall never leave.
The guilty marks of his unbridled Lust,
Are still his sad Companions in the Dust.
Tho' Vice is by him greedily embrac't,
And proves most sweet and grateful to his taste;
Tho' the delicious Morsel, with his Tongue
He rolls about, the Pleasure to prolong;
Yet the sweet Meat he swallow'd down so slow,
Does in his Bowels Gall and Wormwood grow.

It does like Poison, rage along his Veins,
And gripes and racks him with tormenting pains.

What if th' Oppressor Riches has devour'd,
And down his Throat unmeasur'd Treasure pour'd?
He cannot long th' unrighteous Load retain,
His loathing Stomach with regret and pain,
Shall cast the precious Surfeit up again.
God shall his Belly of its Prey beguil,
And from his Bowels wrest the wealthy Spoil.
The profitable and delightful Sin,
Which he has suck'd with so much pleasure in,
Shall like a Viper gnaw and tare his Heart,
And wound his Entrails, like a poison'd Dart.
The Streams of Joy, and Rivers of Delight,
Which he believ'd, would all his toil requite,
Shall disappoint his hope, and in their stead,
Amazing Floods of Sorrow shall succeed.
For that his Neighbours wrongs may be redrest,
Which he by Fraud or Violence opprest,
He shall refund his wicked Wealth, and more
Shall give what justly was his own before.

Tho' he may Riches gorge, the painful Spoil,
In massy Vomit quickly will recoil.
The time it stays the bloated Glutton lies
Distended to a vast Hydropic Size;
But he no Strength or Nourishment shall reap
From the crude Mass, and undigested heap.

Because the Poor despairing he has left,
Whom he by Rapine of his Goods bereft.
Because by open, or by secret Guilt,
The Dwelling he has seiz'd another built.
Therefore his inward Gripes and conscious Fear,
With self-revenging Pains his heart shall tare.
Convulsive Throws, and raging Agonies,
Shall rack his Soul, and on his Bowels seize.
The Riches he so eagerly did crave,
With all his watchful Care he shall not save.
His Heir, what Treasure he has left behind
Shall ne'er enquire, for none he'll hope to find.
When he shall most with Power and Wealth abound,
With Guards encompass'd, and with Empire crown'd,
Then suddain Mischiefs shall his Seat surround.
Fierce Bands of Spoilers shall his Lands invade,
And far away his Wealth shall be convey'd.
When he designs his Riches to enjoy,
And all his Senses with Delights to cloy,
A dismal storm of Wrath Divine shall rise,
And gath'ring Vengeance shall disturb the Skies.
While he is feasting, free from Fear or Care,
The Heav'n's shall hurl down unexpected War.
God on his Head shall such a Tempest pour,
As did thy Children in their Mirth devour.
His Consternation and distracting Fear,
Shall make him fly to scape the Sword and Spear;
But a swift Arrow from an Iron Bow
Shall overtake, and strike the Rebel thro'.

Officious Friends to heal his wounded Veins,
Shall draw the bloody Weapon from his Reins,
Whose glitt'ring point distain'd with issuing Gall,
Shows certain Death attends his suddain fall.
He shall in raging Pangs and Horror lye,
Hopeless of Life, and yet afraid to dye.
Against him God shall Storms and Plagues provide,
And stores of Wrath in secret places hide.
He his dark Caves and Magazines shall stow,
With chosen Vengeance and collected Woe.
From cleaving Clouds a fiery Tempest pour'd,
Like that which on the Hills thy Flocks devour'd,
Shall on his Substance and his House descend,
And to destroy the Wretch its Fury spend.
His Progeny, if any shall remain,
Shall pass their dismal Days in Grief and Pain.
Thus Heav'n by dreadful Judgments shall reveal,
The Wickedness he did with Care conceal.
The Earth shall all her Elements unite,
Muster her Armies, and against him Fight.
The Substance he has gain'd shall flow away,
Like rapid Torrents, in that dreadful Day,
When God provok'd by all his Crimes, shall come
In Storms of Wrath th' Oppressor to consume.
God to th' unjust this Portion shall divide,
This sad Inheritance is on him ty'd;
He's the right Heir, with him it shall abide.

Ch. XXI.

And then afflicted Job reply'd: Forbear
To interrupt me thus, with Patience hear
And weigh my Arguments, while I proceed
In my Defence; this I'll accept instead
Of all the Consolation which from you
Is to a Friend in such Affliction due.
Sedately hear my Reasons out, and then
Reproach and mock your suff'ring Friend agen.

When I in bitter Anguish make my moan,
Do I complain of cruel Man alone?
I oft with Reason do, and must declare,
That God's vindictive Arm is too severe.
That I the mark of all his Weapons stand,
While Men more guilty scape his vengeful Hand.
But what if I of Man alone complain?
Is my Complaint unjust, because 'tis vain?
Have I not reason to indulge my Grief,
When neither Man nor God afford Relief?
Consider well my sad afflicted State,
My unexampled Suff'rings will create
Astonishment, and make you hold your Peace,
And from reproaching me for ever cease.
When I reflect, that Providence Divine
Does on the Wicked, as on Fav'rites shine,
That vile and irreligious Wretches cloy
Their pamper'd Senses with Delight and Joy;
Whose Skins grow smooth, and sleek with Fat and Rest,
And no Invaders Arms their Peace molest:

While the mean time the Just and Godlike Kind,
From Heav'n and Earth alike hard measure find;
Are mark'd and singled out to undergo
Th' Almighty's Anger, and th' Oppressors blow;
Puzzled, confounded and amaz'd I stand,
And can't forbear a Reason to demand
Of this unequal Distribution, why
The Impious thrive, the Just despairing lye.
Here I from Heav'n Instruction would implore
How to defend the Justice I adore.

Why do the Wicked unmolested thrive,
Flow in Abundance, and in Pleasure live?
In Mirth and Ease they pass their Days away,
Healthful in Riot, and in Age not Gray.
In Triumph they the Regal Throne ascend,
And far around their Empire they extend.
With Health and Vigour blest, they live to see
A flourishing and numerous Progeny.
Protected from Assaults they dwell secure,
And ne'er th' Almighty's scourging Rod endure.
Their fruitful Flocks engender on the Hill,
And with their Young their Herds the Vally fill.
Their verdant Meadows pour such Riches forth,
Strong Mowers groan to heave th' unweildy Birth.
Their unexhausted, never-failing Field,
Does a rich Harvest to the Reaper yield.
Their Gardens flourish, and the Golden Fruit
Bend down the laden Boughs, and kiss the Parent Root.

Their Children from their House in Flocks advance,
Sport in the Streets, and o'er the Meadows dance.
To highten yet the Pleasure of the Day,
They take the Harp, and on the Timbrel play.
They're ravish'd with the Singer's charming Voice,
And at the Organ's chearful Sound rejoyce.
In Ease and Wealth they spend their golden Days,
And wearing by insensible decays,
With years, and not with pains their Shoulders bend,
And ripe with Age, they to the Grave descend.
Therefore elated with prodigious Pride,
Th' Almighty's Power and Precepts they deride.
Religion's Heav'nly Graces they contemn,
And God-like Saints, as cheated Fools, condemn.
Th' obdurate Rebels arrogantly say,
What is th' Almighty? why should we obey?
What shall we get, if we in Praises spend
Our Breath, and Prayers to Heav'n devoutly send?

But as 'tis impious, so 'tis foolish too,
Such Pride, and such Contempt of Heav'n to shew:
This Man's own hand his Riches can't defend,
On God whom he provokes, he must depend.
Let him be rich, I can't his Conduct praise,
Nor shall I imitate the Sinner's ways.
For tho' 'tis certain that you grosly err,
When you with so much Confidence aver,
That the good Man God's favour still enjoys,
But that his Fury all th' unjust destroys;

Yet by experience taught I must avow,
That tho' not always, yet 'tis often so.
I grant, destruction oft th' unjust invades,
That oft the glory of the Wicked fades.
Their impious Deeds th' Almighty oft incense,
Who does his Judgments on their Heads dispence.
He with his driving Wrath does often chase
From off the Earth, this irreligious Race.
They, as the Chaff, before the Tempest fly,
Or Stubble born by Whirlwinds thro' the Sky.
Their Guilt th' Almighty treasures up with care,
And stores of Wrath does for their Sons prepare.
Their Progeny shall suffer for their Crime,
And they shall live to see that dismal time.
Their Lips shall drink of God's embitter'd Bowl,
And their dim Eyes shall in Destruction rowl.
What Comfort, what Delight shall they derive
From all their Offspring, who shall them survive;
When an untimely Violence has shut
Their Eye-lids, and their Days in sunder cut?

Thus that the wicked suffer I assert,
But 'tis not all, nor yet the greatest part.
I grant, the Just too sometimes prosp'rous are,
But they more often Pain and Trouble bear.
Yet who shall to th' Almighty's ways object?
Who shall to guide the World, his Hand direct?
Must always God flagitious Men consume,
And ne'er the Righteous to Affliction doom?

Must this distinction always be exprest,
Because you fancy this becomes him best?
Does not th' All-searching God exactly know,
And judge blest Saints above, and mighty Kings below?
Who then to teach him, Knowledge will pretend,
And show him how his Government to mend?
One in his Vigour, and his Strength full grown,
To whom enfeebling Aches are unknown,
Whose Breasts and Sides congested Fat distends,
And thro' whose Bones a Marrow Flood descends,
Shall lye extended in the Grave beneath,
Lopt by an unexpected stroke of Death:
Another wretched Suff'rer who has spent
His mournful days in Grief and Discontent,
In tort'ring Pains and bitter Anguish lies,
Nor till he's worn with ling'ring Sickness, dies.
The friendly Grave does both alike embrace,
And all Distinction's former marks efface:
The Worm alike does on their Bodies feast,
And mingling Dust, the Dead together rest.

Thus Troubles Men promiscuously invade,
And Death alike befalls the Good and Bad.
These Dispensations no regard express
To this Man's Crimes, or that Man's Righteousness.
Nor does the Love or Wrath of God appear
By what he gives, or makes us suffer here.
I know my Friends, by what you have exprest,
Th' imaginations lodg'd within your Breast.

Your inward thoughts your suff'ring Friend abuse,
And tho' the wicked only you accuse
In gen'ral Speeches, yet I plainly see
What you assert of them, you aim at me.
For often you disdainfully demand,
Where does the wicked Prince's Palace stand?
Who does the Dwelling where he flourish'd know?
Who its Remains and Monuments can show?
But can't the meanest Man that passes by,
To this demand convincingly reply?
Ask of the next you meet, and he will tell,
Where now the wicked unmolested dwell.
He'll point, and show the Towers where they abide,
The marks and tokens of their prosp'rous Pride.
'Tis plain, they often flourish, tho' 'tis true,
That Vengeance sometimes does their Crimes pursue
From present Troubles some are kept with care,
For greater Shame, and Judgments more severe.
God shall in solemn Triumph lead them forth,
To suffer publique, ignominious Wrath.
They Fat for Ruin, and for Slaughter fed,
With Garlands crown'd, and Crouds around them spred,
Are to Destruction's bloody Altar led.
Oft on the Wicked dreadful Judgments wait,
But Power and Plenty is their usual Fate.

Aw'd by their Wealth and Greatness, Men forbear
To tell them what their Crimes and Dangers are.
Elated, and impatient of Reproof,
They at the wisest Admonitions scoff.

They 're Great above the fear of Punishment,
Too wise to own their Errors, and repent.
The proud Oppressor's Death will often vye
With his past Life, and great prosperity;
For, as he liv'd in Pride and State, he'll dye.
His mourning Friends with sad magnificence,
With honourable Pomp, and vast expence,
Shall in the Dust th' ungodly heap inter,
And paint and carve his stately Sepulcher.
The Corps embalm'd with wondrous Cost and Art,
Shall rest entire, and sound in every part,
That 'twill a living Watchman posted there
To guard the Dead, not a Dead Corps appear.
He in the Grave shall find a sweet repose,
From Cares deliver'd, and from threatning Foes.
The Men who live, or who are yet unborn,
Shall follow him, and all File off in turn.
He is not more unhappy than the rest,
His Fate is common to the worst and best.
Why then do you pretend, that prosp'rous days
I yet might see, would I amend my ways?
Experience your Assertion contradicts,
And shows, that Heav'n the Righteous oft afflicts:
That the best Men prodigious Suff'rings bear,
While God is pleas'd great Wickedness to spare.

Ch XXII.

Then Eliphaz:

If undefil'd thou dost thy Virtue keep,
Is God oblig'd? does he the Profit reap?

Were all thy Days in pure Religion spent,
Would that th' Almighty's Happiness augment?
When he does strictly Righteousness enjoyn,
Does he his own Advancement seek, or Thine?
If thou art Good the Profit is thy own,
God needs thee not, he on his Heav'nly Throne
Crown'd with Essential Bliss, in Triumph sits,
Unmeasur'd Bliss which no increase admits.
Does he in Wrath attempt thy overthrow,
Fearing in time thou shouldst too Potent grow?
I grant thy Suff'rings great and numerous are,
But with thy Guilt they just Proportion bear.
Justice Divine its Banks ne'er overflows,
All monstrous Suff'rings, monstrous Crimes suppose.

Either thy Neighbour's Pledge thou hast detain'd,
And by Extortion hast his Substance drain'd:
Or of his Garment thou hast stript the Poor,
And sent him Naked from thy cruel Door.
Or to the Man with burning Sunbeams fry'd,
At his last Gasp thou hast thy Spring deny'd.
Or thou hast seen thy hungry Neighbour dye
For want of Bread, which thou wouldst not supply.
Or else unjustly to the Rich and Great,
Thou hast decreed another's Land and Seat.
While thou the mournful Widow didst oppress,
And crush without Remorse the needy Fatherless.
For some such Crime tho' secret and unknown,
Thou dost beneath this heavy Vengeance groan.

For this, with Snares thou art encompass'd round,
And suddain Fears thy trembling Soul confound.
Thick Shades and Darkness o'er thy Dwelling spread,
And dismal Floods of Grief whelm o'er thy Head.

Does not th' Almighty sit enthron'd on high,
On the steep Convex of th' Empyreal Sky,
Whence with a quick and easy Prospect he
Can all his Works and Worlds around him see?
Yet thou dost act, as if thou didst believe,
Thou couldst th' Almighty's searching Eye deceive:
As if thou saidst, how can th' Almighty know,
How can he mind and judge of things below?
Vast is the Gulph of Air that lies between,
And from his sight thick Clouds the Sinner skreen.
He walks the happy Circuit of the Sky,
Nor casts on this low dirty Ball an Eye.
Uninterrupted Pleasure him employs,
While he alone his Blissful Self enjoys.
Our Good or Evil Deeds, our Joys or Pains,
Unworthy of his Notice, he disdains.
Lo, from thy Lips whate'er expressions break,
This is the Language which thy Actions speak.

Didst thou with due Attention ne'er behold,
The Paths in which the Wicked trod of Old;
Who from the Earth for their enormous Crime,
Were hurried off by Death before their time;
Who to th' gen'ral Flood became a Prey,
And with their Sons and Wealth were swept away.

These did th' Almighty's sacred Laws deride,
Contemn'd his Favour, and his Threats defy'd.
They cry'd, if we Religion's Rule regard,
Who will our Pains, and pious Zeal reward?
Yet God their Houses with Abundance blest,
Enlarg'd their Empire, and their Stores increast.
But who was by their Wealth to Envy mov'd,
Or who their impious Words or Ways approv'd?
For tho' like thee, they Peace a while enjoy'd,
Yet they at last were from the Earth destroy'd.
But Righteous Men have still the Joy to see,
Justice Divine rebuke Impiety.
Th' Almighty they'll exalt in Songs of Praise,
Who does his Glory by such Judgments raise.
They shall th'Oppressor's Pomp and Power deride,
When Heav'n's just Vengeance thus corrects their Pride.
The wicked perish, while the pious Race
Of Patriarchs, whence our Descent we trace,
Favour'd by Heav'n, possest their ancient place.
They never were to Desolation doom'd,
Never by such prodigious Fire consum'd,
As raining down from Heav'n in flaming Showers,
Destroy'd proud Sodom's and Gomorrah's Towers.

Wherefore, O Job, to God with speed return,
With deep Contrition thy Offences mourn;
O'erwhelm'd with Shame and Sorrow, prostrate lye
Before his Feet, and for Compassion cry.
Let humble Prayer and penitential Tears,
Appease Heav'n's Wrath, and thus remove thy Fears.

100

When God is pleas'd, all Nature will express
A forward Zeal t' advance thy Happiness.
God's gracious Aspect, with its Heav'nly Light,
Will dissipate this dark tempestuous Night.
Joy will arise, and with its cheerful Ray,
Chase all these sullen Clouds of Grief away.

Will Job prophane and impious Maxims learn
From stupid Heathens, who from all concern
From Things below th'Almighty's Care exempt,
And thus expose Religion to Contempt?
No, let the Law which God of old reveal'd
To humane Kind, which yet is unrepeal'd;
Or which should written in thy Heart abide,
Be made thy Rule of Life, and sacred Guide.
Within thy Breast with pious Care record
His blest Instructions, and his Heav'nly Word.
If thou sincerely wilt thy Life devote
To virtuous Deeds, and wilt with Zeal promote
Th' Almighty's Honour and Religions Cause,
By strict observance of his Righteous Laws;
He all thy dismal Ruins will repair,
And all thy reunited Fragments rear.
He'll raise thy Head now buried in the Dust,
And make thee midst the Clouds thy glitt'ring Turrets thrust.
He'll fix thy Pillars deeper in the ground,
And stronger Bulwarks shall thy House surround.
He shall thy Plenty and thy Peace restore,
And give thee Empire wider than before.

101

Thou shalt no more of Vengeance be afraid,
No Terrors more shall thy safe Tents invade.
Thy Neighbours shall with Wonder thee behold,
With Cedar blest, adorn'd with Gems and Gold.
Thou such prodigious Treasures shalt command,
Thou shalt, like Dust, collect thy Golden Sand.
Thy rich, but disregarded Ophir Oar,
Shall lye like Stones on every River's Shore.
Wedges of Silver from the purest Mine
Pil'd high in Heaps, shall round thy Dwelling shine.
Against thy Foes th' Almighty will contend,
Protect thy Plenty, and thy Life defend.
Thou with his Favour shalt be ever blest,
A vast Reward exceeding all the rest.
Thou shalt derive from him thy chief Delight,
The Thoughts of whom does now thy Soul affright.
Up thou shalt look with Courage, and employ
Thy Thoughts on Heav'n with Confidence and Joy.
Thou to th' Almighty shalt have free Access,
And to his Throne prevailing Prayers address.
When thou art heard, thy Vows in Trouble made,
Shall with a glad and thankful Heart be paid.
All thy designs th' Almighty shall approve,
And thy decrees will ratify above.
Before thee he shall Heav'nly Light display,
To solace, and to guide thee in thy way.
He shall protect thy Paths, thy Counsels bless,
And crown thy Undertakings with Success.
When wicked Men shall be around destroy'd,
Stript of the Power and Wealth they once enjoy'd:

102

Thou shalt not feel th' Almighty's wrathful hand,
But undisturb'd enjoy thy fruitful Land.
For God the humble Person will regard,
And with his Blessing will his Love reward.
Nor shall thy Prayer sent to th' Almighty's Throne
Obtain his Favours for thy self alone;
If thou shalt Supplication for them make,
Thy Neighbours round shall prosper for thy sake.

Ch. XXIII.

But Job reply'd:

From you I find my hopes of Ease are vain,
Your Consolations aggravate my Pain.
I after all your Applications find
The bitter Anguish raging in my Mind.
The sharp redoubled Strokes by which I bleed,
Do all my Cries and loudest Groans exceed.
You give me prudent Counsel to acquaint
My self with God, but this is my Complaint,
That from my Sight he does with Care retreat;
O, that I knew where I might find his Seat.
I would before him justify my Cause,
And shew I'm no Contemner of his Laws.
I would convincing Arguments prepare,
And all my Reasons orderly declare,
To prove my angry Judge is over-strict,
And does too rig'rous Punishments inflict.
I long to know what Charge he would produce,
Of what black Crimes he would my ways accuse.

103

Let him detect those Crimes to me unknown,
And I'll the Guilt with Shame and Sorrow own.
I will with Patience my Affliction bear,
And ne'er complain his Strokes are too severe.
If I an equal Hearing could procure,
Would he controul me with his Soveraign Power,
And not a calm and fair Debate endure?
No, he would give me Strength and Confidence,
And favourably hear my just Defence.
Then I might state my righteous Case at large,
And God would clear me from your groundless Charge.
I fain would know where I my God might find,
For still he's just, and long I found him kind,
Tho' grown of late estrang'd he has my search declin'd.
If I go forward to the Eastern Coast
To seek him out, I mourn my labour lost.
If I turn backward to the Western Seats
To find him there, he still my Hope defeats.
I roam thro' populous Northern Kingdoms, where
His mighty Works and Wonders most appear,
Yet is my strict Enquiry fruitless there.
I try if Southern Climates will reveal
His Seat, but still he does himself conceal.

But tho' the Righteous God will not appear
In Judgment now, my Innocence to clear;
This is my Comfort, that his searching Eye
Does all my Thoughts, my Heart and Ways descry:
When he my Virtue tries, which I desire,
I shall, like Gold, come purer from the Fire.

104

I with unerring Feet have always trod,
In Virtue's Paths, and kept the Heav'nly Road.
I ne'er the rough and steepy Way declin'd,
But to th' Almighty's Will, my own resign'd.
Thro' threat'ning Dangers I my passage made,
Of no low Gulph, or sharp Ascent afraid.
Heav'n's sacred Precepts still I did obey,
And always shunn'd the smooth, but crooked Way,
In which lost Sinners from their Maker stray.
I have preserv'd th' Almighty's sacred Word,
As wealthy Men their choicest Treasures Hoard.
To save the precious Store, I ever shew'd
As much Concern, as for my daily Food.
But tho' th' Eternal Mind did always see
These pregnant Proofs of my Integrity,
Inflexibly resolv'd he'll ne'er relent,
Nor of his harsh proceeding e'er repent.
Confirm'd in Wrath he will not change his Mind,
Never for me a tender Passion find.
My Suff'rings to accomplish he'll proceed,
And execute the Wrath he has decreed.

The Righteous by him often are opprest,
For secret Reasons lodg'd within his Breast.
This is his Pleasure, who shall dare dispute
His Soveraign Will, and Empire Absolute?
Me to his Throne of Grace would he admit,
His Clemency my Virtue would acquit:
But on he comes his Creature to devour,
Arm'd with resistless, Arbitrary Power.

105

Therefore when I my great Creator see
Cloath'd with August, Imperial Majesty,
I at his awful Presence shake with fear,
Nor can the Sight of Soveraign Glory bear.
When on his Terrors I reflect, I feel
An inward Dread, and struck with Horror reel.
My sinking Heart dissolves within my Breast
And bitter Sorrows interrupt my rest;
Because he did not cut me off, before
These dismal Shades and Troubles whelm'd me o'er:
Because he ne're would let the friendly Grave
From so much Woe his wretched Creature save.

Ch. XXIV.

Why do my Friends Erroneous Doctrines teach
That certain Sufferings here the Wicked reach?
God does conceal the Times and Seasons when
His Vengeance shall destroy flagitious Men.
Ev'n those who most his righteous Laws obey,
And mark with care his Providential way,
Are unacquainted with his Judgment Day.
They know of no determin'd, certain Times,
When he will visit Mens provoking Crimes.

Some Men remove with their perfidious Hands,
The Marks that bound appropriated Lands.
They take their Neighbours Goats from off the Rocks,
And from the Airy Downs their Woolly Flocks.
With wicked Spoils they feast their Luxury,
And gorg'd with Rapine on their Couches lye.

106

They the poor Widow of her Ox defraud,
They rob the Orphan, and the Deed applaud.
These Robbers scare the Helpless from their way,
Who leave the Road, and o'er the Forrest stray.
Th' affrighted Trav'llers to the Mountains fly,
And to escape their Rage in Caverns lye.

Other vile Men frequented Towns forsake,
And their Abode in desart Places make.
Where Wild and Salvage grown, at Dawn of Day
They leave their secret Dens to hunt their Prey.
These Men by Plunder and by Rapine thrive
And in a Wilderness in Plenty live.
They suddain Inroads on their Neighbours make,
And from their Fields by Force their Harvest take.
They from another's Vine the Clusters tear
And the rich Spoil to their own Presses bear.
To their Strong-Holds their Booty they convey;
They strip the Lab'rers, make them naked stray,
Expos'd to Cold by Night, to Heat by Day.
The Wretches when they hear a Tempest rise,
And see the gath'ring Clouds o'erspred the Skies,
To neighb'ring Rocks their Flight for Refuge bend;
Their craggy Arms the friendly Rocks extend;
Embrace, and hide them in their Clefts, and show
Less hardness than the cruel Robbers do.

Besides their Substance, which they make their Prey,
By Force they take the Owners too away:

107

For from their Coverts they Incursions make
Into the Country round, and Captives take
Poor Herdsmen, Trav'llers, lab'ring Swains, and wrest
The struggling Infant from the Nurse's Breast.
They lead them stript and starving to their Caves,
And treat the helpless Creatures, as their Slaves.
Tho' their ill-gotten Substance be immense,
Yet they despoil with salvage Violence
Their hungry Captives of that little Fruit
Which they had glean'd their Vigour to recruit.
They make them labour in their Olive-yard,
But with redoubled Stripes their toil reward.
They ne'er permit them who their Vineyards dress,
And tread the swelling Clusters in the Press,
To take, tho' faint, a Grape from off the Vine,
Or tast, tho' fry'd with Heat, one drop of Wine.
These desp'rate Outlaws distant Towns invade,
Their cruel Yoke is on whole Cities laid.
In whose sad Streets the suff'ring People groan,
And make, like wounded Men, a dismal Moan.

There is, besides this more audacious Race,
Whose open Crimes the Noon-day Sun out-face;
A sort of secret Sinners, who require
Darkness to hide them, and from Light retire.
For instance, at th' uncertain Dawn of Day,
The lurking Murd'rer does his Neighbour slay.
Then full of Fear away th' Assassin flies,
And all the Day in some close Covert lies.

108

Then turning Thief, by Night he comes abroad,
And with stoll'n Substance does his Shoulders load.
His guilty Joys th' Adulterer delays,
And for the Evening's doubtful Twilight stays.
To pass unseen he muffles up his Head,
And steals in secret to the Harlot's Bed.
Hot with unbridled Flames, he in the Dark
Breaks Houses up, on which he set his mark
The Day before, where to asswage his Lust;
But he can only to the Darkness trust:
Before the Morn returns, he takes his Flight,
He hates the Day, and courts the welcome Night.
For if discover'd, all the marks of Fear
And Consternation, in his Looks appear.

To this vile Crew you may the Pyrate add,
Who puts to Sea the Merchant to invade,
And reaps the Profit of another's Trade.
He sculks behind some Rock, or swiftly flies
From Creek to Creek, rich Vessels to surprize.
By this ungodly Course the Robber gains,
And lays up so much Wealth, that he disdains
And mocks the poor, unprofitable toil
Of those, who plant the Vine, or till the Soil.

Others as Vile, deflower a Virgin first,
And then destroy the Offspring of their Lust
Within the Mother's Womb, to hide their Shame,
And scape Reproaches that would blast their Fame.

109

The poor and helpless Widow they abuse,
And Reparation cruelly refuse.
Their Power and Threats the timorous Judges awe,
And to their side the Great and Mighty draw.
For if the Villains, on pretence of Wrong,
Assail the mighty, be they ne'er so strong,
Can they against Assassins make Defence?
Whose Life is safe from secret Violence?
Tho' by repeated Vows they should declare,
That their Intentions inoffensive are;
And make such solemn Promises, that you
May think you're safe, because you think them true;
Yet they will wait, and all occasions watch,
The mischief they design'd you, to dispatch.

These in their wicked Courses, free from fear,
Because they live unpunish'd, persevere.
'Tis true, th' Almighty sees their Insolence,
But unconcern'd, no Vengeance does dispence.
The troubled Skies with Lightning grows not red,
Nor does his Thunder strike Oppressors dead.
Th' Eternal pours no dreadful Viols forth,
On Rebels worthy of exalted Wrath.
Among 'em no strange Plagues are sent abroad,
No Tempests Vengeance on their heads unload.
In Peace and Plenty they securely live,
And from Impunity their Pride derive.
All things to make them happy here comply,
And, as they liv'd, they unmolested Dye.

110

They to the Grave a quiet, easy Bed
In Peace, as much as others, are convey'd,
Part of the long Procession of the Dead.
With grievous Sickness they are ne'er distrest,
Nor dye with long tormenting Pains opprest.
Gently cut down by Fate, like Ears of Corn
When fully ripe, they to the Tomb are born.
By slow degrees they sink and wear away,
Their Death's a kind, insensible decay.
Their Streams of Life, like peaceful Rivers flow,
And when they dye, they gently melt, as Snow.
God no such marks of Wrath does on them set,
But that the Mothers may their Sons forget.
Their Bodys hang not by the publick way,
To Men a Terror, and to Beasts a Prey.
But Men in Pomp their Carcasses inter,
To be a Feast for Worms, as others are.
There they enjoy profound Tranquility,
And buried with them their Oppressions lye.
When they are Dead, the Age that next succeeds,
As quickly will forget their wicked Deeds,
As a lost Tree by Time to Atomes worn,
Or by a riving Storm to Shivers torn.
I these remarks deliberately have weigh'd,
And know no strong Objections can be made.
I on the Truth of this Discourse rely,
And all Opposers Arguments defy.

111

Ch. XXV.

Then Bildad answer'd, Why does Job delight
Thus to reflect on Wisdom Infinite?
Wilt thou th' Almighty's Providence correct,
And charge him with Injustice, or Neglect?
As if he ne'er did Righteousness regard,
And did the Impious, not the Just reward?
Or else as if he ne'er did interpose,
But doubtful Chance did all Events dispose.
Should not his awful Majesty deter
Thy Arrogance, and make thee shake with fear?
His Creatures never should debating stand,
But strait obey his absolute Command.
This low Terrestrial World does not alone,
His Soveraign Rule and Jurisdiction own;
His Empire is of unconfin'd extent,
O'er all the wide Etherial Continent;
O'er all the liquid Regions of the Air,
And all the shining Islands floating there.
He Peace preserves in the bright Realms above,
And makes the Spheres in beauteous order move.
All the Seraphic, glorious Hierarchy,
The Pure and God-like People of the Sky,
Adore the depths of Providence Divine,
And to th' Almighty's Will, their Wills resign.
And yet shall discontented Job debate
His Case with God, and quarrel with his Fate?
His Empire to protect, and to controul
Uproar and Strife, what Troops can he enroll?

112

What mighty Armys can th' Almighty head?
What numerous Brigades to Battel lead?
Myriads of Angels lye encampt on high,
His Houshold Squadrons that defend the Sky:
Sabres of Flame th' Immortal Warriors weild,
And now in fiery Chariots take the Field;
Now high in Air the Wing'd Battalions rise;
And glorious War hangs hovering in the Skies.
Along th' inferiour Air at his Command,
His must'ring Meteors Regimented stand.
Tempests of Thunder, Whirlwinds, Rain and Fire
To fight th' Almighty's Battels will conspire.
All Nature at his beck, if Rebels rage,
Strait take up Arms, and on his Part engage.

Of such Extent is his Imperial Power;
With so much Ease he can his Foes devour.
Yet is his Goodness equal to his Might;
The Sun his unexhausted Sea of Light,
Lavish of Glory, does to all dispence
His chearing Beams, and fruitful Influence.
Wide as the World, God has his Table spred,
At his Expence are all his Creatures fed.
Who of his Regal Bounty does not tast?
Whose Stores, if not supply'd by him, can last?
If on his Power and Goodness we depend,
And can to nothing as a Debt pretend;
We murmur and complain without a Cause,
When he his Blessings, not our Right, withdraws.

113

Besides our various Crimes which Heav'n provoke,
Justly expose us to his wrathful stroke.
Who can before his high Tribunal stand,
Plead Innocence, and his Discharge demand?
Can Man be Clean, born of degenerate Race,
And scape the Leaven that infects the Mass?
Never a wholsom, unpolluted Stream,
From an impure, infected Fountain came.
Can a wild Vine a generous Vintage bring?
From a base Stock, can noble Branches spring?
The Constellations that adorn the Sky,
Reveal their Spots to God's All-searching Eye,
Then what foul Stains will he in Man descry?
In Man, a worthless Worm, who turns to Dust
And Putrefaction, whence he sprang at first.

Ch. XXVI.

Then pious Job did Bildad thus bespeak:
To chear the Mourner, and to help the weak
Thou hast a happy, masterly Address,
A charming way, that ne'er can miss Success.
How pertinent, how clear is thy discourse,
No sullen Sorrow can resist its force.
Thy blest Instructions, and thy grave Advice,
Can teach the Blind, and make the stupid Wise.
Display'd by thy Divine Discourse I find
A Heav'nly Day irradiates my Mind.
Thou hast thy point by solid Reason prov'd,
And like an Oracle, all doubts remov'd.

114

What knowing Spirit has thy Bosom fir'd,
For thou hast argu'd, as a Man inspir'd?
But say to whom dost thou address thy Speech?
Am I so weak, and of so short a reach,
That I must still be taught the Common Theme
Of God's Imperial Sway, and Power supreme?
I could th' Almighty's wondrous Works with ease
Like you recite, as for example these.

He all the wanton Monsters form'd that play,
And bound above the Bosom of the Sea;
Wild Water-Gyants, hideous Forms that reign
Lords of the vast, inhospitable Main:
A salvage Race that range the liquid Fields,
And fill with Rapine all the wavy Wilds.
All the mute Nations of the deep Abyss,
And Finny People of the Floods are his.
To hide from God its sad Inhabitants,
And dusky Realms, Hell thicker Darkness wants.
Compacted Shadows, and substantial Night
Elude the Sun's, but not th' Almighty's Sight.
Death does in vain her sable Covering spread,
And in her secret Vaults lock up the Dead:
Th' Almighty's Eye does all her Spoils survey,
And no distinction knows of Night or Day.
He o'er the empty Space displays on high
The blue Expansion of the Northern Sky.
He hangs the pond'rous Earth in liquid Air,
And his Command and Providential Care,
Are the sole Pillars that support it there.

115

He bids the loose and fluid Clouds sustain
Imprison'd Tempests, and suspend the Rain.
Distended with the Waters in 'em pent,
Their Wombs hang low in Air, but are not rent.
But then at his Command, successive Drops
Distill from Heav'n, and crown the Farmer's Hopes.
Lest his high Throne above expression bright,
With deadly Glory should oppress our sight,
To break the dazling Force, he draws a Skreen
Of sable Shades, and spreads his Clouds between.
He raises rocky Bounds around the Deep,
And does the raging Waves in Prison keep.
That, whilst as order'd by Alternate sway,
The Sun and Moon shall rule the Night and Day;
The Foaming Surges rolling o'er the Strand,
Might not a Deluge spread, and drown the Land.
The Hills and Mountains whose aspiring tops
Appear the Pillars, and unshaken props
Reer'd to sustain the Heav'n's expanded Roof,
Tremble with Fear, and shake at his Reproof.
He with his mighty Power the Sea divides,
And ploughs deep Furrows in its wounded Sides.
At his Command the threatning Billows rise,
Mix Waters with the Clouds, and lave with foam the Skies.
But in a moment he corrects their Pride,
And bids the Sea repel her swelling Tide.
Uproar is husht, the Ocean at his Frown
Shrinks in, and calls it's tow'ring Surges down.
The trembling Waves creep softly to the Shore,
And Tempests over-aw'd no longer roar.

116

The Heav'nly Spheres around in Order turn'd,
With clust'ring Constellations he adorn'd.
He the great Serpent form'd, and bid him rowl
His Starry Volumes round the Northern Pole.
These of his Works are part, but still I own
To us his Wonders are but little known.
To such extent who can his Reason stretch,
As his vast Power and Providence can reach?
His boundless Wisdom who can comprehend?
Who will to search the dark Abyss descend?
Who can his Wonders number, who declare
Of Energy divine the utmost Sphere?

Ch. XXVII.

The Pious Job here paus'd a while, and stay'd
For their reply; but no reply was made.
Then he his grave and wise Discourse revives,
And said, as God my great Creator lives,
Who has to hear and judge my Cause deny'd,
And my vext Soul with sharp Affliction try'd,
While the warm blood dilates my winding Veins,
And in my Nostrils while my Breath remains;
That Breath th' Almighty did himself inspire,
Gently to fan and feed the vital Fire;
No Falshood will I mix in this debate,
Nor with perfidious Lips express Deceit.
Under the Censure of my Friends I lye
Charg'd with Offences of the deepest Dye,
Oppression, Fraud, and deep Hypocrisy.

117

Shall I acquit their rash Censorious Tongue,
Confess th'Indictment, and my Virtue wrong?
Forbid, O Heav'n, that I should ever own
So black a Charge of Crimes to me unknown.
I till I Dye will stedfastly assert
The pure Intention of my upright Heart;
From this Profession will I ne'er depart.
Conscience, whose Court of Justice is within,
Can ne'er accuse me of delib'rate Sin.
The wicked and their ways I so detest,
That might I feed Revenge within my Breast,
And might I have permission to bestow
The greatest Curse, upon my greatest Foe,
I would desire that Foe might all his days
Delight in vicious Men, and vicious Ways.

What if the Sinner's Magazines are stor'd
With the rich Spoils that Ophir's Mines afford?
What if he spends his happy Days and Nights,
In softest Joys and undisturb'd Delights?
Where is his Hope at last, when God shall wrest
His trembling Soul from his reluctant Breast?
Must he not then Heav'n's Vengeance undergo,
Condemn'd to Chains, and Everlasting Woe?
This is his Fate; but often here below,
Justice o'ertakes him, tho' it marches slow.
And when the Day of Vengeance does appear,
The Wretch will cry, but will th' Almighty hear?
If bath'd in Tears Compassion he invokes,
The unrelenting Judge will multiply his Strokes.

118

His vain Complaints, and unregarded Prayer,
Will drive the raving Rebel to despair.
Or will he e'er with Confidence apply
Himself to God, and on his Aid rely?
Will he not rather cease in his distress,
His Prayers to Heav'n hereafter to address?

Do not disdain to learn, and I'll reveal,
How the just God does with the Wicked deal.
To you some secret Methods I'll detect,
By which he's pleas'd his Conduct to direct.
All you your selves have by Experience found,
For my Assertions there's abundant ground.
I grant that some, not all the wicked Band,
As you assert, feel God's vindictive Hand.
And this should make the proud Oppressor dread,
Lest Vengeance should assail his guilty Head.
Children he multiplies to be devour'd
By ling'ring Famine, or the raging Sword.
Untimely Death his Offspring shall consume,
And sink them deep in black Oblivion's Womb.
His Wives well pleas'd to see the Tyrant's Fate,
Shall joyful Mourners on his Funeral wait.
Tho' he does Gold in lofty Mountains heap,
And as the dust, has Silver Treasure cheap,
Tho' Robes of State wrought with Sidonian Skill,
And rich embroider'd Vests his Wardrobe fill;
Yet shall the Just and Upright Man divide
His precious Treasures, and his Purple Pride.

119

The Judge's righteous Sentence shall restore
The Wealth he wrested from the injur'd Poor.
His Dwelling, like the Moths, shall soon decay,
Which settles in a Garment for a Day;
But suddainly is crush'd, and swept away.
Or like the Lodge, a Keeper does erect,
His Garden Fruit or Vintage to protect;
Which, when the Swain has gather'd in his Store,
Is pull'd as quickly down, as reer'd before.

When Heav'n th'Oppressor shall of Life bereave,
The Wretch no Funeral Honours shall receive.
His cursed Corps expos'd to open Day,
Shall lye to ravening Beasts and Birds a Prey.
While one with open Eyes can look around,
Heav'n shall the Man, his Race, and Name confound.
A dreadful Inundation of Distress,
And Woes like thronging Waves, his Soul shall press.
An unexpected Storm of Wrath shall rise,
And in the Night, the careless Man surprise.
An Eastern Whirlwind shall his Palace tear,
Catch up, and with its rapid Eddy bear
Th' Oppressor far away thro' Wilds of Air.
God shall his fatal Darts against him throw,
Nor will he spare him, when involv'd in Woe.
The miserable Man for Mercy crys,
In vain he weeps, and prays, in vain he flys.
His Neighbours round shall his just fall deride,
Applauding Heav'n, that thus corrects his Pride.

120

I always thought the righteous God, at last
Would on the wicked sure Destruction cast;
Nay, some his Wrath does in their blooming blast:
But taught by observation, I assert,
That he is pleas'd to let the greater part,
In Peace and Splendour pass their happy years,
And long their day of Punishment defers.
Whilst oft the Just that serve and love their God,
Bewail their Wounds inflicted by his Rod.
This puzzling Conduct, these mysterious ways
Create my Trouble, and my Wonder raise.
But you, because your Reason can't unty
The hard perplexing Knot, the Fact deny.
As if you thought your narrow Wit and Sense,
Could reach th' unfathom'd Depths of Providence.
In things below your Wisdom may appear,
But these are Heights that far surmount your Sphere.

Ch. XXVIII

Advent'rous Man may with successful pains,
Dissect the Ground, trace all the shining Veins
Of Silver Oar, and wrest with labour forth
Its golden Entrails from th' embowel'd Earth.
The sweaty Smelter finds a proper place,
Where from the Dross to purge the precious Mass.
Men dig out pondrous Iron from the Mine,
And Molten Copper in the Flames refine.
The Miner searches all the Seats beneath,
Gloomy and lonesome, as the Shades of Death.

121

Where Nature far withdrawn from humane sight,
To mould and shape her Min'rals does delight.
To fashion precious Stones with curious Art,
And hardness due to Metals does impart.
They all the Earth's dark Bowels open lay,
And make the Central Shades acquainted with the Day.
But often subterranean Floods invade
The Miner's Caves, thro' which he cannot wade.
With wondrous Toil the Men their Works maintain,
And from the Mine the flowing Deluge drain.
While fruitful Trees and bending Ears of Corn
Laden with Bread, the Earth above adorn;
With sparkling Gems its inward Parts are stor'd,
And fatty Minerals full of Fire afford.
Here beauteous Saphirs far remote from Day,
Do a blue Heav'n midst common Stones display.
Here Nature scatters with a lavish hand,
And with the Rubbish mingles golden Sand.
No Fowl of Heav'n, no not the Vulture's Eye
Fam'd for quick Sight, did e'er these Seats descry.
Those Sons of Pride the Lyons never found
These Caves, and dark Recesses under ground.
To Beasts and Birds these Regions are unknown,
By Men discover'd, and by Men alone:
By Men who cut thro' hardest Rocks their way,
Dig thro' the Hills, and Mountains level lay;
That the Metallic Wealth may be reveal'd,
Which in their massy Bowels lies conceal'd.

122

If rising Springs o'erflow the precious Vein,
Men fashion Channels in the Rocks to drain,
Th' invading Flood, till they their Treasure gain.

Thus into Nature's Secrets Men descend,
And may to Knowledge in her Works pretend;
But who can Heav'n's deep Counsels comprehend?
Who can inform th' Enquirer, who can tell
Where Skill Divine, and Heav'nly Wisdom dwell?
For sensless Man its value does not know,
'Tis never found midst Mortals here below.
The Land exclaims aloud, I am not blest
To be th' abode of this Celestial Guest.
The Sea and all its noisy Waves, declare,
In vain you seek the sacred Stranger here.
Th' Infernal Deep cries with a hollow Sound,
Here's no Apartment for her under ground.
Th' unvaluable Blessing can't be bought,
With all the golden Wealth from Ophir brought.
He that has Wisdom Rubies will despise,
And Pearl, if tender'd as an equal Price.
Saphires and Diamonds, with vast labour sought,
The Topaz fetch'd from Countries far remote;
Which worn by mighty Kings, attract regard,
Are worthless Toys, with this bright Gem compar'd.
Who can instruct us then whence Wisdom flows?
And who the place of Understanding knows:
Since after strict enquiry we despair
To find it in the Land, the Sea, or Air?

123

Death and Destruction cry, midst all our Slaves
We ne'r saw Wisdom; to our secret Caves
We the Celestial Stranger ne'er convey'd,
Nor hid her in our solitary Shade.
We only are acquainted with her Name,
Have only heard of her Immortal Fame.
Only the Great All-penetrating God
Knows his own Offspring, Wisdom's blest abode.
For he surveys from Heav'n's bright Crystal brow,
The vast expanded Universe below;
The spacious liquid Vales of Sky and Air,
And all his Worlds, that hang in order there.
The Bounds of Nature, Chaos, and old Night,
Limit the Sun's, but not its Maker's Sight:
He has in Prospect this Terrestrial Isle,
And sees th' extreamest Bound'rys of its Soil.
He forms the various Meteors which appear
Thro' the low Regions of the Atmosphere.
He deals out to the Winds their proper weight,
Gives them their Wings, and then directs their Flight.
He measures out the drops with wondrous Skill,
Which the black Clouds his floating Bottles fill.
When he decreed the manner of the Rain,
And did the Lightning's crooked Path ordain;
When he appointed Nature's course and way,
And gave command that thence she should not stray;
Then Wisdom he beheld, he search'd with care
His own All-seeing Mind, and found it there.

124

He oft reflected on the sacred Guest,
Which had her fixt abode within his Breast,
And in his Works her God-like Form exprest.
But then to Man, to whom he had deny'd
The perfect Knowledge of his Ways, he cry'd,
The Fear of God is Wisdom, to depart
From Evil, this is Science, this is Art.
Attempt to know no more than God reveals,
Search not the Secrets which his Breast conceals.
In this Abyss trust not thy vent'rous Oar,
Wouldst thou be safe, then keep upon the Shore,
And from afar this awful Deep adore.
Thy Happiness in being Righteous lies,
Be Good, and in Perfection thou art wise.
Justly thou mayst despise the boastful Schools,
And learned Cant of grave, disputing Fools.

Ch. XXIX.

Moreover Job continued thus, and said:
O that the happy Days might be restor'd,
When gracious Aid th' Almighty did afford.
When his Celestial Lamp shone o'er my Head,
And with its Light directed me to tread
In lonesome Paths, with horrid Darkness spread.
When secret Blessings did my Youth attend,
And Guardian Providence my House defend.
When all my Children round me stood, and God
Did with his Presence bless my safe abode.
With Teats distended with their milky store,
Such numerous lowing Herds before my door

125

Their painful Burden to unload, did meet,
That we with Butter might have wash'd our Feet.

Besides the Harvest of my richer Soil,
Ev'n Rocks themselves pour'd Rivers out of Oyl.
When thro' the Streets I march'd in Princely State,
To sit in Judgment in the City Gate;
The younger Men, soon as my Face they saw,
Drew back thro' Fear, or reverential Awe.
The Aged Fathers as I past along,
Stood up, and bow'd amidst the gazing throng.
Princes and Lords, of ancient noble Blood,
To shew Regard, before me silent stood.
The Ear that heard me did the Speaker bless,
The Eye that saw me, did its Joy confess.
Because th'Oppressor's Rage I did withstand,
And wrested Suff'rers from his griping hand.
The Poor and Helpless when almost devour'd,
Rescu'd by me, on me their Blessings pour'd.
A Father's Place to Orphans I supply'd,
And made the Widow joyful, as a Bride.
With Righteousness and Mercy cloath'd I sate,
Awful, as drest in splendid Robes of State.
And spotless Justice won me more esteem,
Then a great Monarch's Guards or Diadem.
Refresh'd by me, the Naked, Blind and Lame,
Thro' ringing Streets my Bounty did proclaim.
I with Paternal Bowels fed the Poor,
No needy Wretch went Hungry from my Door.

126

Those Frauds and Injurys, of which th' Opprest
Durst not complain, I sought out and redrest.
My righteous Hand broke fierce Oppressor's Jaws,
And of their Spoil disseiz'd their bloody Paws.

I now have built, said I, my lofty Nest
Where I'll repose, and feed on endless Rest.
My Days shall all be prosp'rous, and increase,
Till they exceed the Sands around the Seas.
With neighb'ring Streams below my Root was fed,
And from above kind Heav'n by Night did spread
Refreshing Dews o'er all my branching Head.
I then was strong, as in my youthful Bloom,
And with new Vigour did my Bow assume.
Th' attentive Throng while I in Judgment sate
Profoundly Silent, did around me wait.
Like clust'ring Bees upon my Lips they hung,
And suck'd the Words, like Honey from my Tongue.
To my Discourses no reply was made,
My Dictates were, as Oracles obey'd.
My Speech upon them drop'd like Summer Rain,
That falls from Heav'n upon the thirsty Plain.
If I my solemn Air put off, if e'er
I kind and condescending did appear,
The People scarcely could believe me so,
Nor did they rude, or too Familiar grow.
They no ill use of those my Favours made,
But still a due Respect and Rev'rence paid.
What way to follow I th' Enquirer told,
And all Mens doubtful Questions did unfold.

127

I sate as Chief, while they around did stand,
My Looks and Language did their Minds command.
When I appear'd, they did such Joy express,
As shouting Armys do, when in distress
They see their General come, whose Presence gives
Their Breasts new Courage, and their Hopes revives.

Ch. XXX

Now Providence Divine has chang'd my State,
Such are my Wants, and such my Woes of late,
That those young Men my Poverty deride,
To whose intreating Fathers I deny'd
The Priviledge my numerous Herds to keep,
Or with my Dogs to sit and guard my Sheep.
For they were grown, their Manly Vigour spent
With Vice and Age, so Weak and Impotent;
They were no more for useful Labour fit,
But wander'd Hoary Beggars thro' the Street:
Opprest with Want and Famine, till at last,
They were, like Thieves, from every City chas'd.
Trembling with fear, to shun their Neighbour's sight,
To solitary Woods they took their Flight,
Roam'd o'er the Plains by Day, and skulk'd in Hills by Night.
In thorny Dens and rocky Caves they lay,
To Lyons Hunger, or their own, a Prey.
Of Juniper they Eat the bitter Root,
Unsavory Herbs, and wild, unwholsome Fruit.
To ease their Hunger with Supplys of Food,
They made the Mountains bare, and stript the Wood.
Brambles and Thorny Branches they devour,
Beneath whose shelter they had lodg'd before.

128

A Stock so Vile, a Progeny so base,
Ne'er brought on Humane Nature more disgrace,
Ne'er was a Kingdom curst with such a Race.
Yet to their Sons I am a standing Jest;
So low is Job, so Poor, and so Opprest.
What Contumelious Insults have I born
From these vile Men, what unexampled Scorn?
With bitter Scoffs they suff'ring Job revile,
And pass me by with a disdainful Smile.
They have me in Contempt, abhor my sight,
And as from one Infected, take their Flight.
They dare affront, and mock me to my Face,
Since God is pleas'd on Job to bring disgrace,
And to afflict me does his Power engage,
They too unbridle all their savage Rage.
Young Striplings, poor afflicted Job despise,
And to obstruct my way, against me rise.
No Methods, no Devices they neglect,
Which likely seem my Ruin to effect.
My Righteous Actions they perversly wrest,
And by their Taunts my Anguish is increast.
Still to invent new Slaunders they proceed,
And are so fruitful, they no Helper need.
On me they come, as conquering Soldiers rush
Into a Town, or as a mighty Flush
Of rapid Waters, which have broken down
Th' opposing Banks, and then the Vally drown.
Like pressing Waves their Terrors on me roll,
And as a Storm my Foes pursue my Soul.

129

My Joy and Peace dissolve and melt away,
As morning Mists before the rising Day.
And now my Soul is griev'd, my Flesh diseas'd,
And dismal Woes have me their Pris'ner seiz'd.
All Night I lye extended on a Rack,
My Bones are tortur'd, and my Sinews crack.
The Putrefaction from my running Boils,
In loathsome manner all my Vest defiles:
Close to my Sores it sticks, as to my Throat,
The narrow Collar of my seamless Coat.
Me deep in Mire God has in Anger spurn'd,
Ev'n while alive, I seem to Ashes turn'd.
I cry unto thee, but am never heard,
I make my Moan, but does the Lord regard?
The gracious God is grown to me severe,
Quite chang'd his very Nature does appear.
His mighty Hand, from which I hop'd Relief,
Is now extended to augment my Grief.
Like Chaff I'm caught up by the Wind, and tost,
And this and that way driv'n, till I have lost
My Flesh and Substance, which I once could boast.
I find the Tomb must quickly me receive,
The general Rendezvous of all that live.
His Hand th' Almighty will not stretch to save
A Wretch, that seems already in the Grave.
Not all the Crys that by my Friends are sent
To Heav'n, my sure Destruction shall prevent.

130

Did not my Soul for Men in Trouble mourn,
Did not my moving Bowels in me turn,
And o'er the Poor touch'd with Compassion yern?
Yet (fatal Disappointment!) sore Distress
Came, when I most expected Joy and Peace.
While I was waiting for the chearful Light,
Darkness o'erspread me, and a dismal Night.
My Soul in restless Agonys of Grief
Tormented lay, and hopeless of Relief.
So unawares was my Affliction sent,
The suddain Stroke did quick-ey'd Fear prevent.
To solitary Seats I love to creep,
And dark Recesses, where I groan and weep.
To antient, lonesome Ruins I repair,
And mossy Heaps, in damp, unwholsome Air;
A Desolation wild, as my Despair.
There I so long have cry'd, and made my moan,
That to the salvage Beasts my Story's known.
Well pleas'd, with Owls and Ravens I converse,
And the sad Series of my Woes rehearse.
They Scriech and Croak, and from ill-boding Throats,
To my sad Grief return becoming Notes.
By Night midst Wolves I well acquainted sit,
Howling Companions, for my Sorrow fit.
Serpents my hissing Friends, with me abide,
And with my Brother Dragons I reside.
I am with Horror now familiar grown,
To all the Terrors of the Desart known,
And friendly Satyrs take me for their own.

131

My Bones quite dry'd by scorching Heat within,
Start out, and break my black and wither'd Skin.
I now no more my tuneful Harp employ,
Sad Tears and Crys succeed my banish'd Joy.
No longer to the Organ I rejoyce,
I've for the Mourner's chang'd the Singer's Voice.

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?

132

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.

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.

133

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.

134

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.

135

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.

Ch. XXXII.

When the three Men who pious Job arraign'd,
And their high Charge in long replys maintain'd,
Perceiv'd him firmly fixt in his Defence,
And resolute to clear his Innocence;
They hopeless of Success from this debate,
Let fall the Argument, and silent sate.
Then a young Man, who as a faithful Friend,
When the three Sages came, did Job attend,

136

And who attention gave, and duly weigh'd
What for their Cause on either side was said,
Only in years inferiour to the rest,
Felt a just Anger kindled in his Breast.
His Name was Elihu, in Blood ally'd
To faithful Abram by the Brother's side.
Against good Job did his Displeasure rise,
Because in all his long and sharp replies
He had less warmth, and less Concernment shown
For his great Maker's Honour, than his own:
Nor did the wise young Man less Passion feel
Against the rash, uncharitable Zeal
Of Job's Accusers, who could not defend
Their groundless Charge against their suff'ring Friend.
Yet did he long discreetly moderate
His struggling Passion, and attentive wait
Till the grave Men had finish'd their Debate.
But when he saw they had their Treasures spent,
And none resum'd their baffl'd Argument;
Unable to forbear, he Silence broke,
And Job's severe Accusers thus bespoke.

Your Wisdom which profoundly I rever'd,
From giving my Opinion me deterr'd.
Aw'd by your Fame, and Age, and Eloquence,
I never yet have interpos'd my Sence.
For one so young, I judg'd it rather meet
To sit a modest Learner at the Feet
Of Men of such Experience, than to rise
To dictate to the Grave, and teach the Wise.

137

But now, convinc'd of my Mistake, I find
That Man, tho' grey with years, continues blind,
Unless Celestial Light irradiates his Mind.
Wisdom Divine is ne'er to be acquir'd,
Unless the Man be from above inspir'd.
'Tis not the sure possession of the Great,
Nor does it still adorn the Teacher's Seat.
Many are in acquiring Knowledge slow,
Nor by experience will they Wiser grow.
Therefore Attention give, and I'll declare
What in this great Affair, my Notions are.
Let none condemn me, that I speak at last,
I've interrupted no Discourses past.
Your Arguments I've weigh'd, which you pretend,
Prove your Indictment brought against your Friend.
But after all, if I may freely speak,
To gain your Cause, your Reasons are too weak.
You never could in this prolix Dispute,
Make good your Charge, or Job's Defence confute.
In vain you say, that you will silent stand,
And leave him wholly to th' Allmighty's Hand;
Hoping his Terrors will your Friend subdue,
Which your weak Arguments can never do.
Weapons so feeble I disdain to weild,
When to dispute with Job I take the Field.
To me he ne'er did his Discourse direct,
Nor will I use your Words his Error to correct.
To all around I justly may complain,
That for Instruction I have staid in vain.

138

You are exhausted, and confounded left,
Silent you stand, as if of Speech bereft.
Therefore, as I have told you, I will give
My Judgment, and this great Debate revive.
While I my Lips by Violence restrain,
My fullness gives unsufferable Pain.
My struggling Thoughts which in my Bosom pent,
Like new press'd Wines within the Vate, ferment,
Will make me burst, unless they find a Vent.
To ease my self I am compell'd to speak,
Full, working Vessels, if not open'd, break.
While I attempt your Errors to correct,
I will not Persons, but the Cause respect.
Quite uninstructed in the Flatterer's ways,
I cannot sooth you with excessive Praise.
I cannot fawn, and your Admirer seem,
To gain your Approbation and Esteem.
Should I such vile unworthy Arts employ,
Me my Creator would in Wrath destroy.

Ch. XXXIII

And sure, O Job, this Preface I have made,
Suffices thy Attention to perswade.
To my discourse afford a patient Ear,
I am prepar'd to speak, if thou art so to hear.
And be assur'd whatever I impart,
Shall be the inward Language of my Heart.
Such plain and clear Instruction I will give,
That thou with Ease my meaning shalt receive.
And first consider well, our Structure came
From the same Model, and our Clay's the same.

139

With Breath th' Almighty did my Breast inspire,
And kindled in my Veins the Vital Fire.
Therefore, if thou thy Cause wilt now defend,
Thou only with thy Equal shalt contend.
To plead with God thou rashly didst demand,
First answer me, I in his Place will stand.
Thou needest not thy Brother-Creature fear,
I can't in dreadful Majesty appear.
I bring no Terrors with me to affright;
No Force, but Reason's clear, convincing Light.
I'll not accuse thee, as thy Friends have done,
Of secret Errors, and of Crimes unknown.
None but th' Almighty's all-observing Eye,
The Heart his proper Empire can descry.
I shall assault thee with no other Force,
Then what I borrow from thy own Discourse.

Have I not heard thee oft in thy Defence,
Boldly assert thy spotless Innocence.
Hast thou not said, thy Justice to maintain,
“My Heart is pure, my Hands are free from stain.
“He, who I hop'd, would mitigate my Woe,
“On slight pretences is become my Foe.
“He seeks occasions to repeat his Strokes,
“And every slight Offence his Wrath provokes.
“In Prison me his Captive he detains,
“And loads my fetter'd Feet with pond'rous Chains.
“And yet his watchful Guards around me stay,
“Lest I should loose my Bonds, and break away.

140

By such absurd and wild Complaints as these,
Impatient of thy Grief thou seekest Ease.
Now tho' thy inward Faults I can't detect,
Nor like thy Friends uncertain Crimes object.
Yet here, O Job, thy rashness does appear,
Here thy presumptuous Arrogance is clear.
For can a Man, a Worm, a silly Wight,
Remov'd from God at distance infinite;
Can such a worthless, wretched Creature dare,
Himself, with him that gave him Breath, compare?
Why dost thou then engage in this dispute,
Audacious Man, wouldst thou thy God confute?
Will he his secret Counsels open lay,
And his mysterious Providence display?
Will he be summon'd to his Creature's Bar,
The grounds of his Transactions to declare?
Will e'er th' Almighty Soveraign condescend,
The Conduct of his Empire to defend,
A peevish Creature's Error to amend?
Will he, because he does our Censure fear,
Set forth his Justice, and his Prudence clear,
And let the hidden Springs of Government appear?
Th' Almighty's Works, thou shouldst have understood,
Because they're his, are therefore Just and Good.
Where shallow Reason can't the grounds discern
Of Providence, it should submission learn.
Not that our Knowledge of his Works and Ways,
Does e'er our kind Creator's Envy raise;
For he by various ways does Knowledge give,
And more than Man is willing to receive.

141

Sometimes in Dreams and Visions of the Night,
He to our Minds conveys instructive Light.
When a deep Sleep does from our Breasts exclude
The Cares and Business which by Day intrude:
Or when a short Repose we seek to take,
And slumbring lye half sleeping, half awake;
With a still Voice he whispers to the Ear,
Or to the Eye, in Scenes distinct and clear,
He makes an Airy Imagery appear.
Thus he reveals his Will, and leaves behind,
Divine Instructions printed on the Mind.
But the Celestial Teacher does not show,
The Reasons of his Conduct here below.
This Heav'nly Converse is not with intent,
T' expose the Secrets of his Government.
God by his gracious Revelations tries,
Rather to make his Creature Good, than Wise:
From evil Paths to turn his erring Feet,
And make him humbly to his God submit.
Who thus preserves the Man, if he obeys
God's Admonitions, from pernicious Ways:
And from those Judgments does his Life defend,
Which on his Head were ready to descend.

Oft does th' Almighty to the Mind convey,
Divine Instruction by a sharper way.
Sickness and Pain at his Command assail
The strongest Man, and in th' Assault prevail.

142

Ev'n he who prospers in his youthful Pride,
And feels within a vig'rous, vital Tyde;
When e'er the Infection thro' his Veins is spred,
Shall groaning lye extended on his Bed.
The secret Poison will his Beauty blast,
Unbrace his Sinews, and his Vigour wast.
He'll languish, and abhor th' offensive sight
Of those rich Meats, that were his great delight.
He who before had such a beauteous Air,
And pamper'd with his Ease, seem'd plump and fair,
Does all his Friends (amazing Change!) surprise
With pale, lean Cheeks, and ghastly, hollow Eyes.
His Bones, a horrid Sight! start thro' his Skin,
Which lay before in Flesh and Fat unseen.
His throbbing Heart in Pain and Labour beats,
And Life pursu'd thro' every Vein, retreats.
His Friends believe each gasp will end his Toil,
And Death stands ready to possess her Spoil.
If then a Man, who does the rest out-shine
In sacred Knowledge, and in Gifts Divine,
Some rare and God-like Messenger be sent
To teach the Sick, and bring him to repent;
If by his Words the dying Person's Mind
Is form'd to Virtue, and to Heav'n inclin'd;
Then he with due Compassion touch'd, shall pray
That God his Mercy would extend, and say,
In Pity, Lord, to spare his Life consent,
Chastise, but not destroy a Penitent.
Let it suffice, that thou didst him Correct,
And that thy Rod has wrought its due effect.

143

Then presently th' Almighty shall restore
The Health and Ease, which he enjoy'd before.
He in his Blood reviving Heat shall find,
Renew'd as well in Body, as in Mind.
Again shall all his Bones be cloath'd with Flesh,
That like a Child's looks beautifully fresh.
He shall as bold and vigorous become,
As when he flourish'd in his youthful Bloom:
When he, his Veins swoln with a noble Tyde,
Did in the fullness of his Strength confide.
His humble Prayer shall be to Heav'n addrest,
And God well-pleas'd, shall grant him his request.
He shall the House of God approach with Joy,
And his glad Lips in Songs of Praise employ.
Th' Almighty reconcil'd, shall then Acquit,
And to his Favour this Poor Man admit.
Then to his Neighbours round him he'll confess
His Errors past, and thus himself express.
Against th' Almighty I have sinn'd, and he
For my Offence has justly punish'd me.
To my desert he suited a Reward,
But has my Life in great Compassion spar'd.
He kindly interpos'd his Hand, to save
A helpless Creature, sinking to the Grave.
And more, is pleas'd reviving Hopes to give,
That I again in Wealth and Joy shall live.
Therefore, let all his wondrous Goodness praise,
That finds t' admonish Man so many ways.
To turn him from the evil Paths, that led
His Feet so near the Chambers of the Dead.

144

To raise him from the Grave to live in Peace,
And see his Riches and his Friends increase.

Mark well, O Job, for this is thy concern,
And I'll instruct thee on, if I discern
Thou art dispos'd attentively to learn.
Or if what I advance thou canst deny,
And to the Reasons I have urg'd reply;
A speedy Answer to my Reasons give,
Before th' important Subject I revive.
For 'tis my ardent Wish thou shouldst appear
From every Crime, and every Error, clear.
But if thou think'st my Words have weight and force,
Continue to attend to my Discourse.

Ch. XXXIV

After a pause, Job making no reply,
The wise young Man proceeded thus: Should I
Presume to judge alone in such a Cause,
I should receive Contempt, and not Applause:
Wherefore to you who Knowledge have acquir'd,
Who are as Men of mighty Reach admir'd:
To all the Wise among you I appeal;
For Truth to you her Secrets will reveal.
As by the Palate various Meats are try'd,
So does the Mind what's true or false decide.
Let us a strict Examination make,
That we in judging may right Measures take.
Let us the matter carefully debate,
Let us the weighty Subject justly state.

145

For Job asserts his Innocence, and says,
“My Heart is pure, and Righteous are my Ways.
“Yet God in my Affliction takes Delight,
“And tho I pray, denys to do me Right.
“Evasions I'll not use in my Defence,
“Nor shall a Lye support my Innocence.
“I must assert, I have not Justice found,
“Mine, tho' a fatal, is a causless Wound.
A Man, like Job, say, have you ever known
So Arrogant, and so Licentious grown?
One, who instead of honouring his God,
And humbly suff'ring his Chastising Rod,
Justice Divine presumptuously arraigns,
And of his Wrongs receiv'd from Heav'n, complains?
Who boldly does contemptuous Language vent
Against th' Almighty, and his Government.
Who joyns himself with th' Irreligious Crew,
And speaks of God, just as the Wicked do.
He seems this impious Doctrine to defend,
That tho' a Man should all his Days contend
To please his God, yet should he nothing gain;
And therefore all Religion is in vain.
Ye Wise, to whom I first my self addrest,
At this, what Passions rise within your Breast?
Say, do not you such impious thoughts detest?
Can God the sacred Rules of Right transgress,
God who does all things in himself possess?
He by his full and rich Sufficiency,
Is from Temptation to Injustice free.

146

He on his Independent Throne secure,
No favour courts, and dreads no greater Power.
Th' Almighty so much weakness ne'er betrays,
But deals with Man according to his Ways.
Ne'er is the bold obdurate Sinner spar'd,
Nor does the Righteous miss a just Reward.
Sure none can censure me when I assert,
Our great Creator cannot Right pervert.
Who shall of Fraud or Violence condemn
Nature's Despotic Lord, and Judge supream?
Is there a Being of superiour Sway,
Whose Laws oblige th' Almighty to obey?
For which of all his Kingdoms does he Homage pay?
With his great Power what Prince does him entrust,
Whose Frowns should him incline to be unjust?
He that with all Perfections does abound,
He must with perfect Justice too be crown'd.
His Mind without a Stain shines pure and bright,
No Spot appears in uncreated Light.
He who is Lord of all can injure none,
Whate'er he takes, he but resumes his own.
All Beings are the Creatures of his Power,
And only while he pleases, they endure.
Should he recall the Breath and Vital Fire,
With which at first he did our Breasts inspire,
Mankind would perish, and to Common Dust
Would strait return, from whence they came at first.
If thou art Wise these Observations mind,
And well attend to what is yet behind.

147

The God from whom that Truth and Justice flow,
Which we observe in Kings that Rule below;
He who with Power does Potentates entrust
Only for Good, can he be thought unjust?
Should we Terrestrial Kings as Tyrants blame,
Their Wrath would show how they abhor the Name.
If to inferiour Rulers we object
That they in judging Law and Right neglect;
Would they th' opprobrious Language tamely bear?
When thus provok'd, would they the Offender spare?
How impious then is that envenom'd Tongue,
That dares th' Almighty charge with doing wrong?
By him great Conqu'rors are esteem'd no more
Than Captives, nor the Wealthy than the Poor.
All Men before him stand on equal ground;
There Kings and Slaves are undistinguish'd found.
On all alike he executes his Laws,
And Judges not the Person, but the Cause.
The High and Low, the Rich and Needy are
Alike his Creatures, and alike his Care.
Can he be over-aw'd? will he to make
Unjust Decrees, a Bribe in secret take?
Will he the Power of mighty Monarchs dread?
His Arm can in a moment strike 'em dead.
He can affright whole Nations, and destroy
Great Empires, when they setled Peace enjoy.
When a proud Prince is ripe for Vengeance grown,
Tho' God by humane means oft pulls him down,
Yet he without them can his Foe dethrone.

148

For Powers unseen descending thro' the Air,
Shall far away the trembling Tyrant bear.

His vast and wide Creation God surveys,
Views all his Subjects, and remarks their ways.
He sees our Thoughts first rising in the Mind,
Knows what we do, and how we are inclin'd.
Therefore th' Almighty cannot thro' mistake,
Or ignorance, a wrong Decision make.
A Judge that cannot err, unbiass'd, free
From Hopes and Fears, can't make an ill Decree.
Evasive Arts in vain the Wicked use,
Their Crimes in vain they labour to excuse.
No Mist before th' Almighty's Eye can dwell,
Whose piercing Beams will blackest Shades dispel,
Shades from the dark and deepest Caves of Hell.
Therefore as God will ne'er our Guilt enlarge,
Nor on us Crimes we ne'er committed charge;
So when for Judgment he appoints a day,
He'll the Judicial Sentence not delay,
To hear what Man, for his excuse can say.
He calls no Witness, no Enquiry needs,
But strait to Condemnation he proceeds.
He breaks the Mighty, pulls the Tyrant down,
And raises others to the vacant Throne.
These wrathful Strokes inflicted justly, show,
He does th' Offences and th'Offender know.
On these he doubles his avenging blows,
And marks them out as Heav'n's notorious Foes

149

The Wretches are expos'd to publick sight,
Objects of Vengeance others to affright.
Because they hated Virtue's Heav'nly way,
And would not God's most equal Laws obey:
But crush'd the Needy with Tyrannic Pride,
Whilst humbly they to Heav'n for Justice cry'd.
And when such poor, afflicted Creatures cry,
The God of Mercy will not help deny.
At last th' Almighty will proud Kings dethrone,
Beneath whose Yoke the ruin'd People groan.
Tho' they would Pious seem, and Zeal pretend
For Publick Good, Destruction is their end.
Lest their Examples which Contagious are,
Should by degrees the Peoples Minds ensnare.

Therefore let all in Misery and Pain
Suspect themselves, and not of God complain.
Let them to God such words as these address,
“Just are my Suff'rings, freely I confess.
“Nor will I now commit a fresh Offence
“By pleading at thy Bar my Innocence.
“Teach me thy Will, my Ignorance instruct,
“And thro' the Paths of Life my Feet conduct.
“Before my Eyes thy Heav'nly Light display,
“Which may both cheer, and guide me in my way.
“Forgive my Sin, my inward Peace restore,
“Have I offended, I'll offend no more.
Say, Job, didst thou in such an humble way,
E'er due Submission to th' Almighty pay?

150

If thou this wholesome Counsel dost despise,
Be sure thy stubborn Folly he'll chastise.
Job may the method I propose refuse,
Which I, were I in his Distress, would chuse.
Tell therefore, Job, what thy Opinions are,
Or let Judicious Men their Sense declare,
For I such Judges ask in this Affair.
To me, as impious Job's Discourses sound,
And with egregious Errors they abound.
He argues on a Capital mistake,
That does the Pillars of Religion shake.
Therefore that he may yet be farther try'd,
I wish his sharp Affliction may abide;
Till he retract his Words, which God arraign,
Till he no more of Providence complain.
Else to the past he'll fresh Rebellion add,
And justify what he has rashly said.
He will applaud his Wisdom, and relate,
That he the Conquest won in this Debate.
Harden'd in Folly he'll his Crimes repeat,
And Heav'n with more indecent Language treat.

Ch. XXXV.

He paus'd: and Job not answering, Elihu
Did thus th'important Argument pursue.
To th' uncorrupted Judge within thy Breast
Thy Conscience I appeal; will that attest
That thou believ'st what thou hast boldly said,
That Job does God in Righteousness exceed?

151

To any other meaning who can wrest
These Irreligious Words by thee exprest?
“Does ever God the least concernment show
“Whether I'm Just and Innocent, or no?
“What Profit shall I reap by being so?
I will a short, but a full answer give
To thee, and those that thus of God believe.
Then up to Heav'n cast thy admiring Eyes,
View the bright Orbs, and Clouds, and distant Skies.
High as they are, they're by th' Almighty's Throne
In height, as much as thou by them, outdone.
Therefore, O Job, the most atrocious Crime
Thou dar'st commit, can never injure him.
Nor can his perfect Happiness be less,
Should thou grown bold, and hard in Wickedness,
By multiply'd Affronts thy Hate of God express.
Nor can he e'er the least advantage reap,
Shouldst thou revere him, and his Precepts keep.

But do not thence this false Conclusion draw,
'Tis therefore fruitless to obey his Law.
Thee and thy Sons thy Goodness will avail,
And Heav'nly Blessings on thy House entail.
And thy Injustice and Impiety,
Tho' not to God, will hurtful be to thee.
Nor does the Mischief thee alone respect,
The Crimes of mighty Men Mankind affect.
When Men of Wealth and Power Oppressors turn,
They always make their Suff'ring Neighbours mourn.

152

The lamentable Crys of Realms opprest,
What Evils wild Injustice brings, attest.
Crush'd, and insulted by Tyrannic Might,
To the Just God they cry aloud for Right:
Who tho' unhurt himself, touch'd with the sense
Of their sharp Suff'rings, will be their Defence.
Tho' 'tis a true, but sad Remark, that none
Of these poor Wretches who their Fate bemoan;
Do ever with a serious Mind enquire,
After the God who did their Breath inspire:
Who cannot therefore only Ease bestow,
And Comforts give to moderate their Woe.
But midst their greatest Sorrows can employ
Their Mouths in Songs, and fill their Breasts with joy.
'Tis strange, that Man has so far lost his Sight;
Has not th' Almighty giv'n to guide him right,
Reason, a Portion of Etherial Light?
By which he is enabled to collect,
That he who does with tender care protect
Brute Beasts and Birds, will never Man neglect:
If we not only by complaining shew
Our Wants, as those unreasoning Creatures do;
But of our past Offences do repent,
And of his Goodness humbly confident,
Our Supplications to our God present.

He'll not, 'tis true, extend his Arm to save
All that Compassion and Protection crave.
For many to their God in Trouble cry,
From sense of Suff'ring, not of Piety.

153

To Pity he's inclin'd, but will not save
Th' Impenitent, tho' they his Pity crave.
Those who his Worship and his Laws despise,
In vain repeat their Prayers, and graceless crys.
And therefore tho' of God thou dost complain,
That thou hast waited for his Aid in vain;
Yet do not thence infer, that he's unjust;
But go and humbly prostrate in the Dust,
Condemn thy Self, and for his Mercy wait,
To rescue thee from thy afflicted State.
For 'tis because th' Almighty cannot find
These pious Inclinations in thy Mind,
That he this weight of Trouble on thee lays,
And disregards thy former prosp'rous Days.
Hereafter thy complaining Speeches spare,
Which fruitless and unreasonable are;
And which, besides thy other Wants and Woes,
Thy want of Sense and Piety expose.

Ch. XXXVI

To this Discourse Job gave attentive heed,
Which made the young Instructer thus proceed:
I now more fully will impart my Sense,
And urge fresh Arguments in God's defence.
His spotless Justice I will vindicate,
Decide with clearness this perplex'd Debate.
Nor will I labour to entangle thee
With artful words, and cheating Sophistry.

154

I the sublimest Principles will use;
Sincere and plain, and solid Reasons chuse,
Fit to convince the Mind, not to amuse.
Know then, that God whose Throne surmounts the Skys,
Will ne'er the meanest, lowest Man despise.
Th' Almighty is too Good, too Wise, too Great,
His Creature e'er injuriously to treat.
When Men grow ripe in Wickedness, the Day
Of their Destruction God will not delay.
The Wretches he'll extirpate, and restore
To Slaves their Ease, their Substance to the Poor.
What Suff'rings e'er the Good and Righteous bear,
They never cease to be th'Almighty's Care.
And sometimes he exalts them from the Dust,
To Posts of highest Dignity and Trust.
They round the Thrones of Kings as Fav'rites stand,
And next to them in Power, the World command.
They rest secure above the reach of all
Who hate their Virtue, and design their Fall.
Or if by adverse Fate they are distrest,
And by Affliction's Iron Rod opprest,
This is to make them on their Faults reflect,
Which God is pleas'd in Kindness to correct;
Sin's growing Power and Greatness to restrain,
Lest in their Hearts it should Victorious reign.
Men are hereby inlighten'd, and the Mind
To hear Divine Instruction is inclin'd.
They for their Faults their Sorrow will declare,
Resolv'd from Virtue's Rule no more to err.

155

And if their Pains produce this blest effect,
If thus their Faults and Follys they correct,
If they a Zeal for Piety maintain,
They shall their Splendour and their Power regain.
And blest by gracious Heav'n in all their ways,
Shall pass in unmolested Peace their Days.
But if they persevere to disobey,
God shall the unrelenting Rebels slay.

Enrag'd against them he shall take the Field,
And Darts of Fire, and Bolts of Thunder weild.
Then shall his Sword with horrid Sway descend,
To cut off those, his Rod could ne'er amend.
False Hpocrites, to Vengeance destin'd, lay
Wrath up in Stores, against the wrathful Day.
Suddain Destruction on their Heads shall fall,
Before the Wretches can for Mercy call.
Their Life's short Course ends at the middle Stage,
Crush'd in the Vigour of their Manly Age.
Unthought of Ruin shall their Seats surprise,
Like that which Rain'd on Sodom from the Skies.
But God is touch'd with Pity to the Poor,
And saves the humble, who his Aid implore.
He is to these, ev'n in his Anger, kind,
Afflicts the Body, to instruct the Mind.
His Strokes are sharp, but strike out heav'nly Light,
Whereby th' afflicted learn to judge aright;
Their Eyes are open'd to discern their Sin,
And Night without, dispels the Night within.

156

Hadst thou thy humble Will to God's resign'd,
And born Correction with a patient Mind,
When with his Rod he had thy Virtue prov'd,
He would have all thy grievous Pains remov'd.
Thy hideous train of Woes he had discharg'd,
And thee from all thy pinching Straits enlarg'd.
He would have made thy Table to abound,
And thee with lasting Peace and Honour crown'd.
But since thy impious, rash Discourses shew,
Job thinks of Heav'n as Unbelievers do;
God will assert the Honour of his Laws,
And Judgment give according to thy Cause.
Since then thou findst th'Almighty is displeas'd,
Fear, left his Fury should be yet increas'd.
Let not thy Crimes afresh his Wrath provoke,
To cut thee off with his avenging Stroke.
Dost thou believe he does thy Wealth regard,
Or can thy Power thy Punishment retard?
No, tho' a Soveraign Lord thou wert, possest
Of all the Strength and Treasure of the East.
That Power or Wealth can serve thee, do not dream,
Please not thy self with such an idle Scheme.
Never thy self with such vain Hopes delight,
Not ev'n in musing on thy Bed by Night.
For God whole Nations who soft Peace enjoy'd,
Sometimes with suddain Vengeance has destroy'd.
But let thy Suff'rings teach thee so much Sense,
Offended Justice never to incense.
Too much of this thou hast already done,
Too much thy Sin, too much thy Folly shown:

157

While thou didst rather Providence accuse,
Then patiently to bear Affliction, chuse.

Consider, Job, God's vast and boundless Power,
He does debase at pleasure, and restore.
What Statesman shall invite him to his School,
To teach th' Almighty how he ought to Rule?
Who can the Master that directs him, name?
What Visitor does his Proceedings blame?
Where is the Censor that presumes to say
Here thou hast err'd, here thou hast kept thy way?
Against thy God no more Objections raise,
But let the Contemplation of his Ways
Excite thy Admiration and thy Praise.
The wonders of his Providence adore,
As much as Men admire the marks of Power,
Of Wisdom, and of masterly Design,
Which in the World's amazing Fabrick shine.
All must the Maker's Skill Divine proclaim,
Who view the Parts of this stupendous Frame.
None are so stupid, none so dull of Thought,
Ev'n in the Barbarous Regions far remote,
But, if their Eyes they open, must descry
The bright Impressions of his Majesty.
They'l own their Reasoning at its utmost stretch,
His boundless Power and Wisdom cannot reach.
They may their Arms from Pole to Pole extend,
And sooner grasp the Spheres, then comprehend
Th' immense Eternal Mind; for who can show
The number of his Days, that no Beginning know?

158

Our Thoughts their way in such Enquirys miss,
O'erwhelm'd, and swallow'd in the vast Abyss.
When we approach him, his too glorious Light
Quite dazles, and confounds our feeble Sight.

He does in Air the fluid Clouds sustain,
Which he dissolves and melts to Dew or Rain.
Which falling down in small refreshing drops,
Dispose the Earth to bring forth fruitful Crops.
Thus to the Earth its Vapours he restores,
And makes the Clouds distil such frequent Showers,
As lookers on with Admiration fill
Of this Contrivance, this surprising Skill.
And who has Understanding to declare
How he extends his Clouds, and makes the Air
The pondrous Burden of the Water bear?
Who can account for that tremendous Noise,
Those awful Murmurs, and Majestic Voice
Which issue thence, and terribly declare,
That God has fixt his high Pavilion there.
Observe too how he spreds upon the Streams,
And on the Deep, the Sun's diffusive Beams.
Where for the Clouds they levy fresh Supplys,
And raise Recruits of Vapours which arise,
Drawn from the Sea to muster in the Skys:
Which he for different purpose does employ;
Some serve in Storms the Wicked to destroy.
Others refresh the Earth with genial Rains,
And make his Fields reward the Farmer's Pains.

159

Sometimes he draws his hovering Mists between
The Heav'ns and Earth, and makes his Clouds a Screen
To intercept the Light, and so defeat
The Fruits and Flowers of their expected Heat.
Brute Beasts themselves, by Nature's instinct Wise,
When they observe the gath'ring Clouds arise,
Can tell, if Storms and Tempests are design'd,
Or if sweet Showers will to the Soil be kind.

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;

160

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.

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.

161

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.

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?

162

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.

163

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.

164

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.

C. XXXVIII

Then did th' Almighty quit his high Abode,
And on the Winds his swift-wing'd Coursers rode.
Involv'd in Darkness, down the Skys he came,
Whirlwinds before him flew, and Storms of ruddy Flame.
The trembling Poles their Terror did express,
And flying Hills their dreadful Fright confess.
All Nature felt a Reverential Shock;
The Sea amaz'd, stood still to see the Mountains rock.
Approaching near the place th' Eternal spoke,
And from an opening Cloud these awful Accents broke.

Where art thou Job, who by thy gross mistake,
Dost false Constructions of my Actions make?

165

Gird up thy Loyns, O Man, prepare to stand
Before a Judge, that comes at thy demand.
I will thy Wisdom and thy Knowledge try,
And to my Questions, if thou canst, reply.
Say, what wert thou, who could thy Station find,
When by the Model in my Breast, design'd
Before all Ages, I was pleas'd to reer
The Frame of this capacious Theater?
Tell, if thou canst this pitch of Knowledge reach,
Whence for my World did I Materials fetch?
Hast thou the unexhausted Mines explor'd
In Chaos Bowels, which supplys afford?
Know'st thou the Strength and Skill that I employ'd,
To dig out Matter from an empty void?
Know'st thou how walking o'er the lonesome Plains
Of antient Night, I found the wealthy Veins
Of Stones and Metals, which her Womb contains.
Canst thou declare by what stupendous Art,
I squar'd, and shap'd, and fitted every Part?
How for the World I mark'd a proper place,
And with what Compass, circumscrib'd the Space?
How from the barren Wast I took in Ground,
Enclos'd it for a World, and fenc'd it round?
On what think'st thou are its Foundations plac't?
What Cement binds and knits the Fabrick fast?
When I to work upon the World begun,
And of the Building laid the Corner Stone,
Know'st thou how soon the World's high Case was reer'd?
How soon the wide expanded Roof appear'd?

166

When all the Seraphs, whose Celestial Race,
The Morning Star in Lustre, far surpass;
The first-born Sons of God, my Praises sung,
While the glad Heav'n's with Acclamations rung.

Who plac'd the rocky Doors before the Deep?
And did in sandy Chains the Billows keep?
When the disruption of the upper Earth
Open'd its Womb, to give the Ocean birth?
Which I with Clouds as with a Garment wrap'd,
And misty Mantles o'er its Bosom lap'd.
Did I not form a Deep within the Land?
Did not the watry Troops at my Command,
March to their Station with obsequious hast,
And find my rocky Bolts, had bar'd their Prison fast?
Then said I to the Sea diffus'd around,
Behold the Frontiers which thy Empire bound;
Hither thou may'st, but may'st no further roll,
These Bars shall thy impetuous Waves controul.
By Job's appointment does the Sun display
His Morning Beams, and bless the World with Day?
By thy discretion does the springing Light
To lengthen or contract, the Day or Night;
Early or later, in the East appear,
Dividing thus the Seasons of the year?
Dost thou with Wings equip the dawning Ray,
Thro' the vast Gulph of Air to make its way?
Ev'n in a moment to compleat its flight,
And gild the Earth's remotest Bounds with Light?

167

Whose Heav'nly Rays the Shapes of Things reveal,
And shew them fair as printed with a Seal:
Nature that lay before with Shades opprest,
Is now with Light, as with a Garment, drest.
Light, by the Guiltless peaceably enjoy'd,
But which obnoxious Criminals avoid;
For if detected by its beams, they know
They must the Death they Merit undergo.

Say, hast thou e'er descended to survey
The secret Springs, that feed the spacious Sea?
Hast thou the Ocean search'd, and wander'd o'er
The watry Walks, their Wonders to explore?
Did Death e'er meet thee at her Palace Gate?
Lead thee thro' all her Guards, and on thee wait
To see her gloomy Throne, and horrid Rooms of State?
Did she her Arms and bloody Trophys shew,
And draw her Armys forth for thy review?
Did ever Hell its Realms to thee disclose,
To thee its mournful Subjects e'er expose?
Did it to thee its various Scenes explain,
Of perfect Grief, and everlasting Pain?

Hast thou thy Compass ever drawn around
The spacious Globe, and its Dimensions found?
Say, dost thou know th' Etherial Mines on high,
Which the refulgent Oar of Light supply?
Is the Celestial Furnace to thee known,
In which I melt that Golden Metal down?

168

Know'st thou the Magazines, in which I lay
My Stores, and bright Materials for the Day?
Treasures, from whence I deal out Light as fast
As all my Stars, and lavish Sun can wast.
Can'st thou describe the silent Desart, where
Imperial Night does her black Standard reer,
To which her sable Troops, and must'ring Shades repair.
Whence she her gloomy Partys sends abroad,
To beat in chase of Day, th' Aerial Road.
Didst thou divide the Empire of the Air,
And give to Light and Shade an equal share?
Canst thou to favour this alternate sway,
By turns extinguish, and restore the Day?
Hast thou in all the Airy Regions been;
The Houses where I work my Meteors seen?
In which the Exhalations, which arise
Born on rebounding Sunbeams thro' the Skys,
Are thicken'd, wrought, and whiten'd till they grow
A Heav'nly Fleece, and softly drop in Snow.
Hast thou discover'd how ascending Steams,
Thinn'd by the Sun's insinuating Beams,
Are wrought and temper'd and become so hard,
That they to fall in Hail-stones are prepar'd?
Hast thou survey'd the Magazines on high,
Where I repose my loud Artillery?
Where I my Arms and Ammunition lay,
To be employ'd upon the dreadful Day,
When I against a sinful Land, declare
Destructive Vengeance, and resistless War.

169

When I my keen Etherial Weapons weild,
And to discharge my Fury take the Field.

How does the Light (I ask again) display
Its radiant Wings and spred the dawning Day?
Who the rich Metal beats, and then with care
Unfolds the Golden leaves to gild the Fields of Air?
Canst thou declare which way the Architect,
His Cloudy Forges did aloft erect?
How the Metalic Mass was thither brought
From which the ruddy Thunderbolts are wrought?
At whose command do Winds whole Tempests blow;
That in those Forges make the Metal glow?
How in the Air are Trains of Sulphur found,
Which, when with watry Clouds encompass'd round,
Take Fire, and give imprison'd Lightning birth,
Which tears the Air, and terrifys the Earth?
How are the Heav'nly Aqueducts contriv'd,
Whence fruitful Floods are to the Earth deriv'd?
With which refresh'd the sandy Wilderness,
Do's in its chearful looks its joy express;
When like a healing Balm distilling Rains,
Cement their Wounds, and cure the gaping Plains
With all their Fibrous Mouths the Plants and Trees
Drink the sweet Juices and their Thirst appease.
The rising Sap thrusts forth the tender Bud,
And crowns with verdant Honours all the Wood.

If thou art Master of the secret, shew
How drops of Rain are form'd, and how the Dew.

170

How is the Dew arrested in its flight,
Congeal'd, and whiten'd in the Air by Night?
How do's it spred its Frostwork o'er the Meads,
Oppress the Trees, and bend their hoary Heads?
What is the nature of the Icy chain
Which do's the fluid Element restrain,
Which oft compels a rolling Flood to stand,
Hardens the Stream, and makes the Water Land?
Grown stiff with Cold the Billows roll no more,
But with their Crystal Arms embrace the rocky Shore.
Pavements of Glass conceal the Oceans Face,
And Armour like his spacious back encase.
Canst thou keep back the Spring? close opening Flow'rs,
And sprouting Plants restrain, when kindly Show'rs
From Heav'n descend, caus'd by the Influence
And Lustre which the Pleiads dispence?
Canst thou in Winter break the Frosty Chains,
With which Orion binds the slipp'ry Plains?
And then to fit it for the Farmer's use,
Thro' all the heaving Soil prolific heat diffuse?
Canst thou with Constellations fill the Skies,
And in his turn make Mazzaroth arise?
Canst thou Arcturus guide around the Pole,
And bid his shining Sons in Order roll?
Know'st thou th' eternal Rules decreed above
By which the Sphears in fluid Ether move?
What to his Crooked Path the Sun confines
Between the Northern and the Southern Lines?
Who gave him strength to run so swift a pace,
And set the Stages of his daily Race?

171

Do Planets chuse untrodden Roads, and stray
By thy Appointment from the common way?
Dost thou on Stars their Influence bestow,
And give them Empire o'er the World below?
Manag'd by thee will they their Power diffuse,
To make such Seasons here as thou shalt chuse?
Will Clouds to Orders giv'n by thee attend?
And if thou call'st for Rain, will Rain descend?
At thy Command will ready Lightnings fly,
And Peals of Thunder ring around the Sky?
Who Godlike Wisdom did to Man impart?
And who with Understanding fill'd his Heart?
Didst thou inspire him with this Ray divine?
Was it thy Bounty Job, or was it mine?
Who can the number of the Clouds enroll,
Which spred the Atmosphere from Pole to Pole?
Canst thou the Liquor which they hold restrain,
Or on the Earth pour down the Bottled Rain?
When from above sufficient Showers have bound
The dusty Glebe, and clos'd the cleaving Ground,
Canst thou the Sluces fix, the Waters stop,
And in their floating Cisterns shut them up?
Are Forrest Beasts by thee with Food supply'd,
For hungry Lyons do's thy Care provide?
If an old Lyon, that can now no more
(His vigor wasted) range the Desart o'er,
Couch'd in his Den shall watch to seize his Prey,
Thither dost thou th' uncautious Fawn betray?

172

Or do's the Raven on thy Care depend?
Dost thou their Portion to his Young Ones send?
Dost thou thus far thy Providence extend?

C. XXXIX.

Know'st thou the Time when the wild Goats bring forth,
And to the flinty Rock commit their Birth?
Know'st thou the Months which pregnant Hinds compleat,
And when to Calve they to the Brakes retreat?
In Pangs they bow themselves, and in the Wood
At once their Sorrows and their Birth exclude.
The Calves not only all their pains survive,
But as with Corn supply'd, grow fat and thrive.
To seek their Meat they range the Forrest o'er,
And to the Mother-Hind return no more.

Who did, O Job, to the wild Asse's Heart
A noble Sense of Liberty impart?
Bravely impatient of the Bit and Rein,
The Beast with gen'rous Pride, a Master do's disdain.
He do's the Crib and proffer'd Corn refuse,
And Thistles joyn'd with native Freedom chuse.
From pop'lous Towns, he do's to Mountains flee,
Oft Hunger feels, but never Slavery,
Whatever are his wants, the noble Beast is free.
No Ignominious Burdens will he bear,
His Flesh no Driver's Whips, or Rider's tear.
He never pants upon the Sandy Road,
Choak'd with the Dust, and groaning with his Load.
The Hills and Forrests Pasturage afford,
There he can range, and there command as Lord.

173

With Freedom blest he'll not the Desart quit,
But mocks th' ignoble Ass, that tamely does submit.

Will the wild Bull, be willing to obey,
And a tame Lab'rer with thy Oxen stay?
Will he receive the Yoke, submit to toyl,
And plough up Furrows in thy fertile Soil?
Will he of any Master stand in Aw,
And the sharp Harrow o'er the Vally draw?
Because his Strength is great, wilt thou presume
To let him bring thy gather'd Harvest home?

With curious Colours who the Peacock dy'd?
Whence has his sweeping Train its painted Pride?
Say, who the Honour to himself assumes,
Of forming by his skill, the noble Plumes,
And spacious Wings which the vast Ostrich wears;
Which by her Bulk a feather'd Beast appears?
She does her Eggs to the wild Desart trust,
And leaves her unform'd Offspring in the Dust;
Mean time forgets how soon it may be prest
And crusht by Trav'lers, or a roaming Beast.
The careless Bird do's from her Young retreat,
Expecting that the Sand's prolific Heat,
Her huge Conceptions, should at last compleat.
When she exalts her Neck amidst the Skys,
She does the Horse and Rider's Arms despise.

Hast thou, O Job, giv'n to the gen'rous Horse,
His Confidence, his Spirit and his Force?

174

The deep thick Mane that cloaths the noble Beast,
The graceful Terror of his lofty Crest,
Is it thy work? canst thou his Courage shake?
And make him like a wretched Insect quake?
With native Fire his dreadful Nostrils glow,
And smoke and flame amidst the Battle blow.
Proud with Excess of Life he paws the ground,
Tears up the Turf, and spurns the Sand around.
He pricks his Ears when the shrill Trumpet sounds,
And to the Music Capers, leaps, and bounds.
When from afar he hears the Foe's alarms,
He forward springs to meet the Warriour's Arms.
Fearless he runs on Swords, the Files invades,
And makes his Passage thro' the thick Brigades.
He mocks the Weapons which the Horsemen weild,
The ratling Quiver, and the blazing Shield.
In his fierce Rage he beats and bites the Ground,
Nor does he start at the loud Trumpet's sound:
Pleas'd with the Martial noise he snuffs the Air,
And smells the dusty Battle from afar,
Neighs to the Captain's Thunder, and the shouts of War.

Didst thou instruct the Hawk to rove abroad
A murth'ring Robber on th' Aerial Road?
By thee enabled does he wing his Flight,
Thro' the thin Gulph, swift as a Ray of Light?
What Feather'd Trav'ller beats the Plains of Air,
That with the Eagle's can his Strength compare;
Midst cloudy Meteors that can soar so high,
Or with such swiftness cut the liquid Sky?

175

Gav'st thou the noble Bird her mighty Force,
And proper Wings to make her rapid Course?
Didst thou direct her where to build her Nest,
Where no Invader might her Peace molest?
She as a Fortress, does her dwelling keep
Midst craggy Cliffs, insuperably steep.
Tow'ring upon the Rock's impending Brow,
She sees with decent Pride th' ignoble Birds below.
She with a glance does all the Vale survey,
And like a Bolt of Thunder, makes her way
Down thro' the yeilding Heav'ns, to truss her prey.
Then to her Young, her crooked Pounces bear
The bloody Banquet swiftly thro' the Air.

Ch. XL.

Th' Almighty paus'd, Job (speechless struck) supprest,
All his Complaints and Anguish in his Breast.
Th' Almighty thus proceeded, tell me why
To my Demands, thou makest no reply?
Have not the Allegations I have brought,
Inlighten'd thee, and full Conviction wrought?
He that desires the Argument to State,
And would with God his Providence debate,
To those Objections must Solutions find;
And more, must answer Questions yet behind.

Then humbly Job return'd: thy heav'nly Light
Shews me a wretched miserable Wight.
Confounded and amaz'd, I can't withstand
Thy Arguments, nor answer one demand.

176

The Words which I have spoken, tho' but few,
Too many are, and high presumption shew.
Prostrate before thy Footstool, I'll adore
Henceforth thy Greatness, but will speak no more.

Then did th' Almighty, from the hov'ring Cloud
In which involv'd, he did his Glory shroud,
Bespeak the pious Patriarch, and said,
Thou who desir'dst so much with me to plead:
Thou who so much thy Innocence didst boast,
Hast thou thy Courage and Assurance lost?
Gird up thy Loyns as for another task,
And answer Questions which I now shall ask.
Since I, O Job, did ever condescend
To all my lowest Creatures to extend
My Providential Care, canst thou suspect,
That I'll Mankind, my nobler Work neglect?
What cannot Job his Innocence maintain,
Unless unjustly he does God arraign?
Must I then be reproach'd to clear thy Fame?
To make thee guiltless, must I bear the shame?
To make thy Cause appear to others right,
Wilt thou, audacious Man! thy God indict?
Dost thou thy kind Creator thus requite?

Canst thou like God, thy mighty Arm extend,
To crush the Proud, the Humble to defend?
Canst thou the Heav'ns astonish with thy Voice,
And imitate the Thunder's dreadful noise?

177

Canst thou swift Lightnings on thy Errand send,
And will the Meteors thy Commands attend?
In massy Robes of State thy Limbs array,
Thy Triumph and Majestic Pomp display.
Thy dazling Crown and costly Purple wear,
And on thy Throne Magnificent appear.
Let Throngs of humble Princes on thee wait,
And numerous Guards express thy Royal State;
That by unrival'd Glorys, thou mayst draw
Men's admiration, and excite their Awe.
Around thee Storms of vengeful Fury throw,
Let thy destructive Rage oppress thy Foe;
On all the Haughty in Displeasure frown,
And make them hang their troubled Faces down.
Again I say, let proud Oppressors struck
With Terror, tremble at thy angry look.
With thy fierce Rage oppress the wicked Race,
Who in their Wealth and Power their safety place:
Do these great things, and I my self will grant,
That independant Job does no Assistance want.

But now to humble and amaze thee more,
To make thee in the Dust thy self abhor;
Remark thy fellow Creature Behemoth,
A Beast so strong, of such prodigious growth,
That if on Flesh he feasted, what supplys
For such a mighty Hunger would suffice?
His vast capacious Belly would consume
Whole Flocks at once, and numerous Herds entomb.

178

Such Desolation to prevent, and spare
The living World, it was the Maker's care,
That pleas'd with Herbs he should incline his Head,
And like the Ox, should graze along the Mead.
O Man, contemplate with a serious thought,
How firm and strong his Muscles all are wrought:
Not only of his Back and Loyns, but those
Which his prodigious Belly do enclose.
His wondrous Trunk he like a Cedar moves,
Or a tall Pine, that in the Mountain Groves,
Are by the Fury of a stormy Wind,
With mighty sway from side to side inclin'd.
The vig'rous Sinews of his Thighs, are bound
Like complicated Cords, all wrap'd and wound,
And knit so fast, that to the gen'rous Beast
They give such Strength, as ne'er can be opprest.
Bones firm as Brass sustain the pond'rous frame,
Or Bars of Iron, temper'd in the Flame.
Tho' midst the various salvage Brotherhoods,
That range the Mountains, and infest the Woods,
Are many Creatures that in Force excel,
Vast for their Bulk, for fierceness terrible;
Yet this chief work of mine, this mighty Beast,
Exceeds in Strength and Structure all the rest.
To wound his Foe, and guard himself from harms,
His wondrous active Trunk, his native Arms,
To this prodigious Beast his Maker gave,
Which he on high does as a Fauchion wave.
For Pasture he frequents the verdant Plains,
And grassy Hills, where he a Monarch reigns;

179

To which the Forrest Beasts in Troops resort,
And by the Huntsmen unmolested sport.
Thence to the Groves he does for Rest retreat,
Or to the Covert of a Reedy Seat.
He lies extended in the shady Wood,
Or by the Willows that adorn the Flood.
When to the Stream lie does his Mouth apply,
To quench his Thirst, he drinks the River dry.
When faint with toil, and panting with his drought,
He hastens to the Banks, he makes no doubt
But he can from its Channel Jordan draw
Down his wide Throat, to the deep Gulph his Maw.
What hardy Mortal can approach his Sight?
Who dares attempt a fair and open Fight?
By Violence whoever undertook,
To fasten in his Nose the servile Hook?

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?

180

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,

181

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?

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.

182

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.

183

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,

184

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.

Ch. XLII.

These awful words, in which so brightly shine
Wisdom and Power, and Majesty Divine;
Did Job awaken, and his Grief renew,
Setting his Errors fully in his View:
Who now a just and free Confession made,
Humbly submitted to his God, and said:
Thy Wisdom all thy Creatures reach transcends,
Far as thy Will thy Power its Sphear extends.
All thy Designs thou wilt at last compleat,
No Force or Art can thy Wise Ends defeat.
As thou art pleas'd to crush me, thou hast Power,
If thou wert pleas'd, my Substance to restore.
Convinc'd by thy Reproofs, I freely own,
That I have rash, audacious Folly shown;
Vent'ring with Reason's short and treach'rous Line,
To sound the Depths of Providence Divine.
Searching the secret Counsels of thy Breast,
I have presumptuous Forwardness exprest.
My rash and unconsider'd Words, and all
My Censures of thy Conduct I recall.
My stupid Arrogance I now condemn,
That made me speak on so sublime a Theme.
Such Wonders all Created Wit exceed,
And should our silent Admiration feed.

185

Awful, Mysterious Things to be ador'd,
But not by vain and curious Heads explor'd.
O, let thy Anger be appeas'd, and hear
My humble Questions with a gracious Ear.
I will no more to Knowledge make pretence,
Or of thy Power, or of thy Providence.
Do thou instruct me, let thy Heav'nly Light
Dispel the hov'ring Shades that cloud my Sight.
Let Truth Divine its glorious Beams display,
Remove the Night, and bless my Mind with Day.
Something I own I understood before,
Both of thy Wisdom, and thy mighty Power,
But since thy dreadful Glory I beheld,
Those Attributes more clearly are reveal'd.
Wherefore a Sting does in my Bosom stick,
And self-displeasure wounds me to the quick;
When I reflect on my Behaviour past,
My bold Aspersions on th' Almighty cast.
That I thy Strokes did with Reluctance bear,
And wish'd for Death so oft in my Despair,
As if the Righteous Man no longer were thy Care.
My arrogant Discourses I repent,
My Charges brought against thy Government;
Now drown'd in Tears my Errors I lament.
I grieve that grown impatient of thy Rod,
I justify'd my self against my God.

So much th' Almighty this Confession pleas'd,
That against Job his Anger was appeas'd.

186

Then turning, thus to Eliphaz he spoke,
But thou, and these thy Friends my Wrath provoke.
For you have all perverse Constructions made,
Of those Afflictions I on Job have laid.
Who, notwithstanding all his Faults, I own,
Has spoken better far than you have done.
Sev'n Bullocks then, and Rams as many take,
And go to Job, he shall Atonement make,
Which I'll accept, for his my Servant's sake.
He shall to me his Supplications send,
And I to you my Mercy will extend.
Let this be done, lest on your guilty Head
My Vengeance fall, because as I have said,
My ways you wrested to an evil sense,
And represented ill my Providence,
And would not hear my Servant Job's defence.

These three wise Friends, of Wrath Divine afraid,
Their due Submission to th' Almighty made,
And Job to be their Intercessour pray'd.
His humble Prayer th' Almighty did receive,
And these Offenders for his sake forgive.
While Job this Duty for his Friends discharg'd,
God from his Straights the Patient Man enlarg'd.
He now began that Vigour to restore,
And all the Blessings he enjoy'd before.
Nor did he cease his Bounty to repeat,
Till he had made him twice as rich and great.
Then all his Friends and Kindred, who as Foes
Had Job deserted in his Straits and Woes,

187

Of his Deliv'rance when they heard the Fame,
To show their Joy, in Throngs around him came.
And when they first his Losses had condol'd,
And for his Suff'rings past their Sorrow told;
They their Congratulations did express,
For this his unexpected Happiness.
Each in his Hand did for a Present bear,
Or Coyn, or golden Pendant for the Ear.
Thus God chastis'd him with a kind intent,
And made him Poor, his Riches to augment.
The Herds and Woolly Flocks he once possest,
Now to a double number were increast.
His fruitful Wife his Offspring to restore,
Sev'n goodly Sons, and three fair Daughters bore.
One was Jemima, one Kesia nam'd,
The third was Kerenhappuch, Virgins fam'd
For charming Beauty, which the Sisters blest
Beyond the fairest Daughters of the East.
Job did not, as the Custom was to do,
These with small Portions of his Goods endow.
But being with his Sons Coheirs declar'd,
With them his vast Inheritance they shar'd.
God after this so happy turn of Fate,
Encreast his Years, as much as his Estate.
Of Years an Hundred, and twice Twenty more,
To those were added, which he liv'd before.
So the Good Man his numerous Progeny,
Did to the fourth Succession live to see.
Then ripe with Hoary Age, and fully pleas'd,
He dyed, or rather, he from Living ceas'd.