The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell Oxford edition: Edited, with notes by J. Logie Robertson |
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FRAGMENT OF AN ORATORIO, FROM
THE BOOK OF JOB |
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 | The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell |  |
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FRAGMENT OF AN ORATORIO, FROM THE BOOK OF JOB
Crush'd by misfortune's yoke,
Job lamentably spoke:
‘My boundless curse be on
The day that I was born;
Quench'd be the star that shone
Upon my natal morn.
In the grave I long
To shroud my breast;
Where the wicked cease to wrong,
And the weary are at rest.’
Then Eliphaz rebuked his wild despair:
‘What Heaven ordains 'tis meet that man should bear.
Lately, at midnight drear,
A vision shook my bones with fear;
A spirit passed before my face,
And yet its form I could not trace;
It stopped—it stood—it chilled my blood
The hair upon my flesh uprose
With freezing dread!
Deep silence reigned, and, at its close
I heard a voice that said—
“Shall mortal be more pure and just
Than God, who made him from the dust?
Hast thou not learnt of old how fleet
Is the triumph of the hypocrite;
How soon the wreath of joy grows wan
On the brow of the ungodly man?
By the fire of his conscience he perisheth
In an unblown flame:
The Earth demands his death,
And the Heavens reveal his shame.”’
JOBJob lamentably spoke:
‘My boundless curse be on
The day that I was born;
Quench'd be the star that shone
Upon my natal morn.
In the grave I long
To shroud my breast;
Where the wicked cease to wrong,
And the weary are at rest.’
Then Eliphaz rebuked his wild despair:
‘What Heaven ordains 'tis meet that man should bear.
Lately, at midnight drear,
A vision shook my bones with fear;
A spirit passed before my face,
And yet its form I could not trace;
It stopped—it stood—it chilled my blood
The hair upon my flesh uprose
With freezing dread!
Deep silence reigned, and, at its close
I heard a voice that said—
“Shall mortal be more pure and just
Than God, who made him from the dust?
Hast thou not learnt of old how fleet
Is the triumph of the hypocrite;
How soon the wreath of joy grows wan
On the brow of the ungodly man?
305
In an unblown flame:
The Earth demands his death,
And the Heavens reveal his shame.”’
Is this your consolation?
Is it thus that ye condole
With the depth of my desolation
And the anguish of my soul?
But I will not cease to wail
The bitterness of my bale.
Man that is born of woman,
Short and evil is his hour;
He fleeth like a shadow,
He fadeth like a flower.
My days are pass'd; my hope and trust
Is but to moulder in the dust.
CHORUS
Bow, mortal, bow, before thy God,
Nor murmur at His chastening rod;
Fragile being of earthly clay,
Think on God's eternal sway!
Hark! from the whirlwind forth
Thy Maker speaks—‘Thou child of earth,
Where wert thou when I laid
Creation's corner-stone?
When the sons of God rejoicing made,
And the morning stars together sang and shone?
Hadst thou power to bid above
Heaven's constellations glow?
Or shape the forms that live and move
On Nature's face below?
Hast thou given the horse his strength and pride?
He paws the valley with nostril wide,
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He neighs at the trumpet's sound
And his speed devours the ground
As he sweeps to where the quivers rattle
And the spear and shield shine bright,
'Midst the shouting of the captains
And the thunder of the fight.
| The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell | |