A paraphrase on the Book of Job As likewise on the Songs of Moses, Deborah, David: On Four Select Psalms: Some Chapters of Isaiah, and the Third Chapter of Habakkuk. By Sir Richard Blackmore |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
Chap. III.
|
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
|
|
| LIII. |
 |
Chap. III.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job |  |
11
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.
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.
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.
12
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.
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:
13
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?
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
14
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.
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. III.
A paraphrase on the Book of Job | |