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, Sir, d. 1729.
      
       
         
           1700
        
      
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             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, Sir, d. 1729.
          
           [40], 291 p. ; 31 cm.
           
             Printed for Awnsham and John Churchill,
             London :
             1700.
          
           
             Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.
             In verse.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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           Bible. -- O.T. -- Job -- Paraphrases, English.
           Bible. -- O.T. -- Paraphrases, English.
        
      
    
     
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           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
          
           ,
           Kt.
           
             M.
             D.
          
           One
           of
           His
           Majesty's
           Physicians
           in
           Ordinary
           ,
           and
           Fellow
           of
           the
           College
           of
           Physicians
           in
           London
           .
        
         
           Vt
           si
           occupati
           profuimus
           aliquid
           civibus
           nostris
           ,
           prosimus
           etiam
           ,
           si
           possumus
           ,
           otiosi
           .
        
         
           Cic.
           Tuscul.
           Quaest.
           
        
         
           LONDON
           ,
           Printed
           for
           Awnsham
           and
           
             Iohn
             Churchill
          
           ,
           at
           the
           
             Black
             Swan
          
           in
           Pater-Noster-Row
           .
           1700.
           
        
      
       
         
         
         
           THE
           PREFACE
           .
        
         
           THE
           great
           Mischiefs
           which
           we
           already
           feel
           ,
           and
           the
           far
           greater
           yet
           ,
           we
           justly
           fear
           from
           the
           Vniversal
           Depravation
           of
           our
           Manners
           ,
           and
           horrible
           Contempt
           of
           Sacred
           and
           Divine
           Things
           ,
           have
           with
           good
           reason
           alarm'd
           all
           the
           
             Wiser
             part
          
           of
           the
           Nation
           ,
           who
           have
           a
           due
           Concern
           for
           the
           Interests
           of
           Religion
           ,
           or
           the
           Good
           of
           their
           Country
           .
           Considering
           Men
           in
           all
           places
           express
           their
           Melancholy
           Apprehensions
           ,
           that
           if
           Vice
           and
           Prophaness
           should
           without
           controul
           spread
           their
           Infection
           much
           farther
           ,
           the
           Consequences
           would
           be
           fatal
           ;
           and
           that
           notwithstanding
           we
           have
           by
           His
           Majesty's
           unrivall'd
           Courage
           ,
           and
           most
           prudent
           Conduct
           ,
           surmounted
           our
           fears
           of
           
             Foreign
             Enemies
          
           ,
           the
           Nation
           is
           still
           in
           greater
           Danger
           from
           our
           Vices
           and
           Immoralities
           ,
           our
           more
           formidable
           ones
           at
           Home
           .
           
             His
             Majesty
          
           therefore
           ,
           to
           put
           a
           stop
           to
           the
           progress
           of
           this
           
             dreadful
             Evil
          
           ,
           and
           after
           he
           has
           sav'd
           us
           from
           our
           Enemies
           ,
           to
           deliver
           us
           from
           our
           Selves
           ,
           (
           his
           last
           and
           hardest
           Task
           )
           has
           been
           pleas'd
           to
           recommend
           from
           the
           Throne
           the
           Suppressing
           of
           Vice
           and
           Irreligion
           ;
           and
           our
           
             Honourable
             Representatives
          
           ,
           in
           nothing
           more
           honourable
           than
           in
           this
           ,
           have
           express'd
           a
           ready
           and
           
             becoming
             Zeal
          
           for
           the
           accomplishing
           this
           Great
           and
           
             Good
             Design
          
           .
        
         
           To
           think
           of
           extirpating
           Vice
           would
           be
           indeed
           a
           vain
           Imagination
           ;
           to
           suppress
           its
           growth
           ,
           and
           reduce
           its
           
           Power
           and
           Interest
           ,
           is
           not
           impossible
           .
           And
           tho'
           it
           must
           be
           granted
           ,
           that
           even
           this
           is
           hard
           to
           be
           effected
           ,
           yet
           when
           a
           Work
           is
           necessary
           ,
           the
           Difficulty
           should
           only
           whet
           the
           Courage
           ,
           and
           provoke
           the
           Zeal
           of
           the
           Vndertakers
           .
           And
           when
           our
           Government
           shall
           endeavour
           to
           stop
           the
           various
           Sources
           of
           this
           Mischief
           ,
           when
           it
           shall
           attack
           with
           vigour
           the
           many
           
             monstrous
             Heads
          
           of
           this
           Hydra
           ,
           that
           terrible
           one
           that
           
             poisons
             the
             Stage
          
           ,
           and
           from
           thence
           conveys
           a
           
             deadly
             Contagion
          
           through
           the
           Kingdom
           ,
           may
           ,
           perhaps
           ,
           receive
           a
           
             mortifying
             stroke
          
           .
           It
           must
           be
           confess'd
           ,
           but
           not
           to
           the
           Honour
           of
           a
           
             Christian
             Nation
          
           ,
           that
           Poetry
           was
           never
           in
           the
           worst
           of
           Times
           ,
           or
           among
           the
           worst
           of
           Men
           ,
           employ'd
           to
           more
           
             detestable
             ●urposes
          
           than
           it
           has
           been
           by
           the
           Writers
           of
           this
           Age.
           This
           Weapon
           which
           might
           have
           been
           manag'd
           with
           great
           advantage
           against
           Vice
           and
           Prophaness
           ,
           they
           have
           made
           an
           Instrument
           of
           Destruction
           ,
           and
           plung'd
           it
           into
           the
           Bowels
           of
           their
           
             Native
             Country
          
           .
           I
           will
           not
           ●ay
           that
           the
           worst
           of
           our
           Poets
           ,
           no
           not
           he
           who
           in
           the
           late
           
             loose
             Reigns
          
           introduc'd
           and
           establish'd
           that
           pernicious
           way
           of
           Writing
           ,
           which
           corrupted
           the
           Stage
           ,
           and
           deprav'd
           our
           Manners
           ,
           had
           this
           effect
           in
           view
           ,
           and
           really
           design'd
           the
           
             fatal
             Consequences
          
           that
           attended
           their
           performances
           .
           'T
           is
           hard
           to
           imagine
           that
           any
           Men
           should
           be
           so
           intellectually
           Wicked
           ,
           as
           to
           promote
           Immorality
           and
           Irreligion
           ,
           meerly
           for
           the
           sake
           of
           doing
           so
           ;
           but
           this
           has
           been
           ,
           and
           is
           still
           my
           complaint
           ,
           that
           it
           is
           eventually
           true
           ,
           that
           the
           Loose
           and
           
             Prophane
             Writings
          
           of
           our
           Poets
           ,
           whatever
           they
           design'd
           ,
           have
           greatly
           contributed
           to
           that
           decay
           of
           Vertue
           ,
           and
           corruption
           of
           Manners
           ,
           which
           threaten
           the
           Nation
           with
           such
           dangerous
           Consequences
           .
        
         
         
           The
           Regard
           I
           have
           for
           the
           Interests
           of
           Religion
           ,
           and
           my
           Zeal
           for
           the
           Safety
           and
           Happiness
           of
           my
           Country
           ,
           have
           extorted
           these
           Complaints
           from
           me
           :
           And
           though
           I
           know
           't
           is
           impossible
           to
           escape
           the
           Reproaches
           of
           those
           who
           will
           think
           themselves
           either
           unjustly
           ,
           or
           too
           severely
           censured
           in
           this
           Matter
           ;
           yet
           that
           is
           no
           discouragement
           to
           me
           .
           If
           I
           can
           escape
           the
           Defamation
           of
           their
           Panegyricks
           ,
           I
           think
           my self
           very
           safe
           .
           I
           have
           no
           Personal
           Quarrel
           with
           any
           of
           the
           Writers
           I
           have
           censur'd
           ;
           and
           if
           they
           think
           fit
           to
           expose
           my
           Name
           for
           asserting
           the
           Cause
           of
           Vertue
           and
           Religion
           ,
           I
           have
           no
           reason
           to
           be
           displeased
           with
           them
           for
           doing
           me
           so
           great
           an
           Honour
           .
           If
           it
           be
           not
           possible
           to
           regulate
           this
           Grievance
           ,
           and
           reform
           this
           
             evil
             Manner
          
           of
           Writing
           ,
           at
           least
           I
           am
           willing
           that
           Posterity
           should
           know
           ,
           if
           my
           Writings
           should
           continue
           so
           long
           ,
           that
           the
           Interests
           of
           Religion
           and
           Vertue
           ,
           I
           mean
           as
           far
           as
           Poetry
           ●s
           concerned
           in
           them
           ,
           were
           not
           given
           up
           without
           Opposition
           ,
           or
           any
           Protestations
           enter'd
           against
           it
           .
        
         
           One
           of
           the
           most
           
             Famous
             Poets
          
           of
           the
           Stage
           has
           at
           last
           expresly
           own'd
           ,
           that
           the
           Charge
           brought
           against
           him
           is
           
             too
             just
          
           .
           He
           has
           done
           it
           in
           
             two
             Lines
          
           ;
           the
           
             two
             best
          
           he
           ever
           writ
           ,
           and
           by
           which
           ,
           in
           my
           Opinion
           ,
           he
           has
           acquir'd
           more
           
             true
             Honour
          
           than
           by
           all
           the
           Volumes
           he
           has
           publish'd
           .
           The
           
             two
             Lines
          
           are
           these
           :
           
             
               What
               I
               have
               loosely
               ,
               or
               prophanely
               writ
               ,
            
             
               Let
               them
               to
               Fires
               ,
               (
               their
               due
               Desert
               )
               commit
               .
            
             
               
                 Verses
                 before
              
               Beauty
               in
               Distress
               .
            
          
        
         
           Though
           
             particular
             Persons
          
           endeavour
           to
           vindicate
           themselves
           ,
           yet
           in
           the
           general
           't
           is
           allow'd
           that
           the
           
           Stage
           requires
           a
           Reformation
           .
           The
           chief
           things
           that
           are
           said
           in
           the
           defence
           of
           our
           
             Modern
             Plays
          
           ,
           are
           these
           ;
           that
           they
           are
           an
           
             agreeable
             Diversion
          
           ,
           and
           that
           they
           mightily
           polish
           and
           improve
           our
           Language
           .
           But
           of
           what
           Persons
           must
           that
           Audience
           he
           compos'd
           ,
           who
           shall
           call
           that
           an
           
             agreeable
             Diversion
          
           ,
           where
           Prophaness
           and
           Immorality
           are
           kindly
           treated
           and
           encouraged
           ,
           and
           Vertue
           and
           Wisdom
           exposed
           and
           put
           out
           of
           Countenance
           ?
           Was
           it
           not
           an
           Argument
           of
           the
           great
           Degeneracy
           of
           the
           Romans
           ,
           when
           they
           became
           delighted
           with
           the
           
             bloody
             ●ntertainments
          
           of
           the
           Amphitheatre
           ,
           where
           the
           Gladi●to●s
           mangled
           and
           killed
           one
           another
           for
           the
           Sport
           and
           Pastime
           of
           the
           cruel
           Spectators
           ?
           But
           't
           is
           infinitely
           more
           pardonable
           to
           be
           thus
           diverted
           ,
           than
           to
           make
           Sport
           with
           the
           Tragical
           Performances
           of
           the
           
             English
             Theatre
          
           .
           'T
           is
           sad
           indeed
           that
           
             Humane
             Nature
          
           should
           at
           any
           time
           be
           so
           ●ar
           divested
           of
           all
           tender
           Passions
           ,
           as
           that
           it
           should
           be
           de●ighted
           with
           the
           Torments
           and
           
             dying
             Agonies
          
           tho'
           of
           
             condemn'd
             Criminals
          
           ;
           but
           for
           any
           People
           to
           make
           it
           a
           Diversion
           to
           see
           their
           Religion
           in●ulted
           ,
           hurt
           ,
           and
           wounded
           ,
           to
           see
           Vertue
           it self
           receive
           such
           cuts
           and
           deep
           gashes
           ,
           is
           a
           certain
           mark
           of
           the
           most
           deplorable
           Corruption
           .
        
         
           As
           to
           what
           is
           said
           of
           the
           Improvement
           of
           our
           ●anguage
           by
           the
           Writers
           for
           the
           Stage
           ,
           I
           believe
           ●is
           in
           part
           true
           ;
           though
           it
           must
           be
           own'd
           at
           the
           same
           time
           that
           our
           most
           famous
           Masters
           ,
           and
           most
           correct
           Writers
           of
           English
           ,
           are
           either
           of
           the
           Clergy
           ,
           or
           else
           are
           Gentlemen
           whose
           Stile
           seems
           to
           have
           nothing
           of
           the
           Air
           of
           the
           Theatre
           in
           it
           .
           But
           suppose
           it
           were
           indeed
           true
           ,
           that
           we
           owe
           all
           the
           Refinements
           of
           our
           Language
           
           to
           the
           Stage
           ,
           will
           that
           make
           amends
           for
           the
           Mischiefs
           which
           are
           universally
           laid
           to
           its
           Charge
           ?
           Does
           the
           Honour
           and
           Happiness
           of
           a
           People
           depend
           upon
           the
           Politeness
           of
           their
           Language
           ,
           or
           the
           Purity
           of
           their
           Manners
           ?
           let
           these
           Gentlemen
           restore
           the
           
             old
             English
          
           Vertue
           ,
           but
           so
           far
           as
           't
           is
           impair'd
           by
           them
           ,
           and
           we
           'll
           be
           contented
           to
           take
           our
           
             old
             Language
          
           in
           the
           Condition
           they
           found
           it
           .
        
         
           There
           is
           a
           degree
           of
           Vertue
           necessary
           to
           the
           support
           of
           every
           
             Civil
             Society
          
           ,
           without
           which
           the
           wisest
           Laws
           ,
           and
           the
           most
           prudent
           Provisions
           will
           be
           in
           vain
           .
           Not
           many
           Princes
           have
           Vertue
           enough
           for
           themselves
           ,
           but
           none
           ,
           no
           not
           the
           Best
           ,
           not
           our
           
             Great
             King
          
           himself
           ,
           who
           has
           enough
           for
           
             many
             Kings
          
           ,
           has
           enough
           for
           himself
           ,
           and
           his
           People
           too
           .
           For
           if
           the
           Corruption
           of
           any
           Nation
           should
           encrease
           to
           that
           degree
           ,
           that
           there
           should
           not
           be
           Men
           of
           Vertue
           le●t
           to
           put
           the
           Laws
           in
           Execution
           ;
           if
           the
           Numbers
           and
           Confidence
           of
           the
           Criminals
           become
           so
           great
           ,
           that
           they
           stand
           upon
           their
           
             defence
             ,
             despise
          
           the
           Authority
           ,
           and
           defy
           the
           Power
           of
           the
           Magistrate
           ;
           that
           Nation
           for
           want
           of
           Vertue
           ,
           let
           the
           Magistrate
           and
           Laws
           be
           never
           so
           good
           ,
           must
           be
           certainly
           undone
           .
           Whoever
           therefore
           ,
           as
           the
           Poets
           of
           the
           Stage
           have
           done
           ,
           shall
           by
           any
           means
           sink
           the
           Vertue
           ,
           and
           corrupt
           the
           Manners
           of
           the
           People
           ,
           do
           effectually
           undermine
           the
           Foundations
           ,
           and
           subvert
           the
           Pillars
           of
           the
           Government
           ;
           for
           a
           profligate
           and
           flagitious
           People
           will
           destroy
           themselves
           in
           spite
           of
           the
           
             best
             Laws
          
           and
           the
           
             wisest
             Ministers
          
           in
           the
           World.
           
        
         
           This
           is
           the
           ground
           of
           my
           Controversie
           with
           the
           Stage
           .
           If
           a
           Foreign
           Enemy
           should
           invade
           the
           Nation
           ,
           every
           English-man
           should
           take
           the
           alarm
           ,
           although
           
           he
           has
           receiv'd
           from
           them
           no
           personal
           Provocation
           .
           The
           same
           Reason
           will
           justifie
           the
           Opposition
           I
           have
           made
           to
           those
           Poets
           I
           have
           at
           any
           time
           condemn'd
           ,
           and
           will
           plainly
           show
           that
           I
           did
           not
           do
           it
           unprovok'd
           .
           Whoever
           undermines
           the
           
             Goverment
             ,
             provokes
          
           every
           Man
           that
           
             loves
             It
          
           ,
           to
           resist
           him
           .
        
         
           'T
           is
           a
           great
           damage
           also
           to
           the
           Nation
           ,
           that
           so
           much
           of
           its
           
             finest
             Spirit
          
           is
           thus
           wasted
           ,
           or
           employed
           to
           very
           
             bad
             Ends.
          
           'T
           is
           plain
           that
           many
           of
           a
           
             Poetical
             Genius
          
           are
           likewise
           fit
           for
           the
           greatest
           and
           highest
           Employments
           both
           in
           Church
           and
           State
           ;
           and
           there
           are
           but
           very
           few
           ,
           that
           are
           such
           
             meer
             Poets
          
           ,
           as
           only
           to
           be
           capable
           of
           being
           
             Turners
             of
             Verses
          
           .
           If
           therefore
           our
           Youth
           who
           are
           Poetically
           inclin'd
           ,
           would
           consider
           the
           Matter
           ,
           and
           thereupon
           apply
           themselves
           to
           Business
           ,
           or
           severer
           Studies
           ,
           many
           of
           them
           might
           arise
           to
           
             eminent
             Stations
          
           ,
           and
           at
           the
           same
           time
           advance
           themselves
           ,
           and
           become
           very
           serviceable
           to
           their
           Country
           ;
           and
           by
           this
           means
           they
           would
           acquire
           greater
           Honour
           and
           Reputation
           ,
           than
           ever
           they
           will
           do
           by
           their
           
             Rhimes
             and
             Plays
          
           :
           For
           if
           they
           would
           reflect
           ,
           they
           would
           soon
           be
           convinc'd
           ,
           that
           tho'
           Poetry
           is
           indeed
           an
           Ornament
           to
           those
           that
           have
           more
           noble
           and
           more
           useful
           Qualities
           ,
           yet
           when
           it
           becomes
           a
           Profession
           ,
           't
           is
           one
           of
           the
           meanest
           and
           lowest
           sort
           :
           'T
           is
           like
           Dancing
           and
           Musick
           which
           we
           value
           in
           a
           Gentleman
           ,
           when
           a
           Musician
           or
           a
           Dancing-Master
           make
           no
           considerable
           Figure
           :
           So
           greatly
           different
           are
           the
           degrees
           of
           Esteem
           ,
           which
           all
           Men
           pay
           ,
           and
           not
           without
           good
           reason
           ,
           to
           the
           same
           Attainment
           ,
           when
           't
           is
           in
           one
           an
           Accomplishment
           ,
           in
           another
           ,
           a
           Trade
           .
        
         
         
           And
           that
           I
           may
           not
           only
           censure
           the
           Performances
           of
           others
           ,
           but
           likewise
           give
           a
           fresh
           Example
           of
           a
           Writing
           that
           may
           both
           entertain
           and
           instruct
           the
           Reader
           ,
           I
           have
           made
           a
           third
           ,
           which
           I
           intend
           as
           my
           
             last
             Attempt
          
           in
           Poetry
           .
        
         
           It
           has
           been
           observed
           by
           
             great
             Judges
          
           ,
           
           and
           I
           find
           Mr.
           
             Le
             Clerk
          
           of
           the
           
             same
             Opinion
          
           ,
           that
           the
           Moderns
           have
           wholly
           form'd
           themselves
           on
           the
           Models
           of
           the
           Ancients
           ,
           and
           that
           we
           have
           scarce
           any
           thing
           but
           the
           Greek
           and
           
             Latin
             Poetry
          
           in
           the
           World.
           We
           have
           no
           Originals
           ,
           but
           all
           Copiers
           and
           Transcribers
           of
           
             Homer
             ,
             Pindar
          
           ,
           and
           
             Theocritus
             ,
             Virgil
             ,
             Horace
          
           ,
           and
           Ovid.
           Their
           Design
           ,
           their
           Phrase
           ,
           their
           Manner
           ,
           and
           even
           their
           
             Heathen
             Theology
          
           ,
           appear
           in
           all
           the
           Poems
           that
           have
           since
           their
           Time
           been
           published
           to
           the
           World
           ,
           especially
           in
           the
           
             Learned
             Languages
          
           .
           'T
           is
           therefore
           to
           be
           wish'd
           that
           some
           
             good
             Genius
             ,
             qualify'd
          
           for
           such
           an
           Undertaking
           ,
           would
           break
           the
           Ice
           ,
           assert
           the
           Liberty
           of
           Poetry
           ,
           and
           set
           up
           for
           an
           Original
           in
           Writing
           in
           a
           way
           accommodated
           to
           the
           
             Religion
             ,
             Manners
          
           ,
           and
           other
           Circumstances
           we
           are
           now
           under
           .
           But
           however
           we
           write
           ,
           I
           think
           't
           is
           
             high
             time
          
           to
           leave
           out
           our
           Allusions
           to
           the
           
             Pagan
             Divinity
          
           ;
           for
           how
           beautiful
           soever
           they
           might
           be
           in
           in
           the
           
             Pagan
             Authors
          
           ,
           who
           wrote
           to
           a
           People
           that
           believ'd
           in
           those
           Deities
           ,
           't
           is
           the
           most
           ridiculous
           and
           senseless
           thing
           in
           the
           World
           for
           a
           
             Christian
             Poet
          
           to
           bring
           in
           upon
           all
           Occasions
           the
           Rabble
           and
           Riffraffe
           of
           
             Heathenish
             Gods
          
           ;
           and
           yet
           if
           we
           reflect
           on
           our
           Modern
           Poems
           one
           would
           think
           we
           were
           all
           Pagans
           to
           this
           day
           .
           What
           have
           we
           to
           do
           with
           Jupiter
           and
           
             Juno
             ,
             Mars
          
           and
           Venus
           ,
           and
           the
           rest
           ?
           
           We
           know
           they
           are
           a
           Iest
           ,
           and
           yet
           they
           are
           brought
           into
           all
           our
           most
           grave
           and
           chastest
           Poems
           .
           Solemn
           Prayers
           are
           made
           to
           them
           by
           
             Christian
             Writers
          
           ,
           than
           which
           there
           cannot
           be
           a
           more
           intollerable
           Absurdity
           .
           I
           know
           't
           is
           said
           ,
           as
           I
           have
           elsewhere
           ob●erv'd
           ,
           that
           the
           
             Christian
             Scheme
          
           of
           Religion
           is
           not
           so
           well
           accommodated
           to
           P●etical
           Writings
           ,
           and
           therefore
           our
           Poets
           are
           oblig'd
           to
           embelish
           their
           Works
           with
           the
           
             Pagan
             Theology
          
           :
           A
           
             wretched
             Apology
          
           !
           Are
           our
           Poets
           then
           so
           dry
           and
           barren
           ,
           have
           they
           so
           little
           Learning
           ,
           and
           so
           poor
           a
           stock
           of
           Images
           ,
           that
           they
           are
           not
           able
           to
           furnish
           themselves
           with
           proper
           Allusions
           ,
           surprizing
           Metaphors
           ,
           and
           beautiful
           Similes
           ,
           without
           reviving
           the
           old
           exploded
           Idolatry
           of
           the
           Heathens
           ?
           As
           in
           this
           Book
           of
           Job
           ,
           they
           will
           find
           a
           Poem
           that
           is
           indeed
           an
           Original
           ,
           and
           not
           beholding
           to
           the
           Greek
           and
           
             Latin
             Springs
          
           ;
           so
           they
           will
           find
           ,
           if
           it
           be
           not
           depress'd
           by
           the
           Paraphrase
           ,
           a
           
             sublime
             Stile
             ,
             elevated
             Thoughts
             ,
             magnificent
             Expressions
          
           where
           the
           Subject
           requires
           them
           ,
           and
           great
           richness
           and
           abundance
           throughout
           the
           whole
           ,
           without
           the
           Aids
           of
           the
           
             Pagan
             System
          
           of
           Divinity
           .
        
         
           It
           has
           been
           generally
           allow'd
           that
           almost
           all
           the
           Book
           of
           Job
           is
           writ
           in
           Metre
           ;
           though
           a
           very
           learned
           Person
           ,
           famous
           for
           his
           Skill
           in
           these
           Matters
           ,
           has
           assured
           me
           that
           this
           is
           a
           mistake
           :
           However
           that
           be
           ,
           't
           is
           universally
           agreed
           that
           the
           Subject
           of
           it
           is
           treated
           in
           a
           Poetical
           manner
           ;
           that
           is
           ,
           the
           Narration
           ,
           the
           Allusions
           ,
           the
           Similes
           ,
           and
           the
           Diction
           ,
           are
           such
           as
           are
           proper
           only
           to
           Poems
           .
           But
           't
           is
           a
           Controversie
           among
           learned
           Men
           what
           kind
           of
           Poem
           it
           is
           :
           Some
           are
           of
           Opinion
           that
           there
           never
           was
           any
           such
           
           Man
           in
           Being
           as
           Job
           ,
           but
           that
           the
           Person
           is
           feigned
           ,
           and
           all
           the
           
             Sacred
             Story
          
           concerning
           him
           is
           made
           up
           of
           Allegories
           and
           Fables
           ,
           composed
           for
           the
           Instruction
           of
           Mankind
           ,
           like
           the
           Parabolical
           Relations
           in
           the
           
             New
             Testament
          
           ;
           and
           of
           this
           Opinion
           were
           many
           of
           the
           
             Ancient
             Jews
          
           .
           Others
           believe
           that
           this
           Book
           contains
           a
           relation
           of
           nothing
           but
           
             real
             Facts
          
           ,
           without
           
             feigned
             Incidents
          
           or
           Episodes
           ;
           and
           that
           therefore
           it
           is
           an
           
             Historical
             Poem
          
           ,
           like
           that
           of
           Lucan
           ,
           which
           contains
           the
           Narration
           of
           a
           Series
           of
           
             real
             Actions
          
           in
           a
           poetical
           way
           without
           interposing
           any
           
             feign'd
             Stories
          
           .
           Most
           of
           the
           Commentators
           and
           Criticks
           that
           have
           writ
           on
           this
           Book
           ,
           if
           not
           all
           ,
           are
           of
           one
           of
           these
           
             two
             Opinions
          
           .
           But
           I
           have
           in
           Conversation
           met
           with
           learned
           Men
           that
           are
           of
           a
           
             middle
             Opinion
          
           ;
           that
           is
           ,
           that
           this
           is
           a
           Poem
           founded
           on
           a
           
             true
             History
          
           ,
           as
           those
           of
           Homer
           probably
           were
           :
           But
           then
           they
           say
           the
           Conduct
           ,
           the
           Method
           ,
           the
           Machines
           ,
           the
           Incidents
           ,
           and
           the
           Episodes
           ,
           which
           make
           up
           a
           great
           part
           of
           the
           Poem
           ,
           were
           form'd
           in
           the
           Poet's
           Imagination
           ,
           and
           that
           therefore
           this
           Poem
           is
           of
           the
           Epick
           kind
           .
           As
           to
           the
           
             first
             Opinion
          
           ,
           I
           think
           the
           Scriptures
           fully
           confute
           it
           ,
           by
           asserting
           the
           Person
           and
           Patience
           of
           Job
           so
           plainly
           ,
           that
           it
           leaves
           no
           room
           for
           any
           tolerable
           Evasion
           .
           As
           to
           the
           
             two
             last
          
           ,
           many
           things
           of
           Weight
           and
           Importance
           may
           be
           urg'd
           on
           either
           side
           ;
           and
           therefore
           I
           shall
           not
           undertake
           to
           decide
           the
           Controversie
           ,
           but
           content
           my self
           in
           giving
           the
           Reasons
           that
           I
           have
           read
           or
           heard
           offer'd
           to
           support
           each
           Assertion
           .
        
         
           Those
           of
           the
           
             last
             Opinion
          
           in
           the
           defence
           of
           it
           alledge
           ,
           that
           the
           Frame
           of
           the
           
             whole
             Book
          
           shews
           it
           to
           be
           the
           Work
           of
           Imagination
           and
           Contrivance
           ,
           
           and
           not
           a
           relation
           of
           a
           Series
           of
           
             real
             Actions
          
           .
           No
           Body
           can
           believe
           ,
           say
           they
           ,
           that
           Satan
           did
           really
           appear
           before
           God
           ,
           and
           that
           the
           Discourse
           recited
           in
           the
           Book
           was
           indeed
           held
           between
           them
           in
           the
           Presence
           of
           the
           
             Holy
             Angels
          
           :
           'T
           is
           not
           credible
           that
           the
           Messengers
           that
           brought
           an
           account
           to
           Job
           of
           so
           many
           Sufferings
           that
           befel
           him
           ,
           did
           really
           come
           upon
           the
           heels
           of
           one
           another
           so
           fast
           ,
           and
           in
           such
           a
           manner
           as
           is
           there
           related
           .
           They
           think
           't
           is
           improbable
           that
           Job
           should
           sit
           so
           long
           upon
           a
           Dunghil
           ,
           and
           that
           his
           Acquaintance
           should
           wait
           seven
           days
           and
           nights
           together
           without
           speaking
           a
           word
           to
           their
           
             sorrowful
             Friend
          
           .
           They
           look
           on
           this
           to
           be
           a
           Poetical
           way
           of
           representing
           the
           
             vast
             Distress
          
           that
           overwhelmed
           the
           
             patient
             Sufferer
          
           .
           They
           say
           ,
           't
           is
           incredible
           that
           all
           those
           
             prolix
             Discourses
          
           should
           be
           actually
           held
           between
           Job
           and
           his
           Friends
           :
           and
           that
           a
           Man
           in
           such
           
             sad
             Circumstances
          
           ,
           as
           Job
           is
           supposed
           to
           be
           ,
           should
           speak
           so
           very
           long
           ,
           and
           use
           so
           many
           Poetical
           
             Similes
             ,
             Metaphors
          
           ,
           and
           beautiful
           Descriptions
           as
           are
           found
           in
           his
           several
           Speeches
           .
           They
           urge
           also
           that
           it
           has
           an
           Air
           of
           Contrivance
           to
           sink
           a
           Man
           so
           suddenly
           from
           the
           most
           prosperous
           Condition
           ,
           and
           to
           lay
           him
           under
           such
           
             grievous
             Sufferings
          
           ,
           and
           the
           very
           extremity
           of
           Misery
           ,
           and
           then
           by
           a
           no
           less
           sudden
           and
           
             surprizing
             Revolution
          
           ,
           in
           so
           short
           a
           space
           of
           time
           ,
           to
           make
           him
           again
           the
           
             most
             happy
          
           Man
           in
           the
           World.
           They
           urge
           that
           in
           the
           Catastrophe
           ,
           when
           this
           
             patient
             Man
          
           is
           rewarded
           for
           his
           
             inflexible
             Perseverance
          
           ,
           the
           allotting
           him
           just
           the
           same
           number
           of
           Children
           as
           he
           had
           lost
           ,
           and
           just
           a
           double
           quantity
           of
           Riches
           as
           he
           enjoyed
           before
           ,
           seems
           too
           nice
           to
           be
           a
           
             real
             Fact.
          
           The
           Men
           of
           this
           Opinion
           
           do
           not
           dispute
           the
           reality
           of
           the
           Person
           of
           Job
           :
           They
           allow
           there
           was
           a
           Person
           of
           that
           Name
           ,
           eminent
           for
           his
           Righteousness
           ,
           and
           famous
           for
           his
           Patience
           ;
           for
           this
           the
           Scriptures
           expresly
           affirm
           ;
           and
           they
           suppose
           some
           
             great
             Poet
          
           ,
           under
           the
           Guidance
           and
           Assistance
           of
           
             Divine
             Inspiration
          
           ,
           did
           for
           the
           Instruction
           of
           Mankind
           chuse
           this
           Subject
           ,
           and
           contrive
           the
           Poem
           upon
           it
           of
           which
           we
           are
           now
           discoursing
           .
           They
           affirm
           that
           this
           Poem
           of
           Job
           is
           of
           the
           Epick
           kind
           ,
           here
           being
           found
           all
           the
           essential
           parts
           requir'd
           in
           the
           Constitution
           of
           such
           a
           Poem
           .
           They
           add
           farther
           as
           a
           confirmation
           of
           their
           Opinion
           ,
           that
           though
           Machines
           ,
           that
           is
           ,
           the
           introducing
           of
           
             Invisible
             Superiour
             Beings
          
           ,
           and
           the
           interesting
           of
           them
           in
           the
           Business
           of
           the
           Poem
           ,
           are
           not
           necessary
           to
           an
           Epick
           Poem
           ;
           yet
           as
           it
           does
           greatly
           heighten
           and
           embelish
           the
           Narration
           ,
           they
           can't
           but
           take
           notice
           that
           this
           Conduct
           is
           observed
           here
           ;
           for
           the
           
             chief
             Apostate
             Angel
          
           ,
           and
           even
           the
           
             Divine
             Being
             himself
          
           ,
           are
           both
           introduced
           in
           the
           most
           proper
           manner
           that
           can
           be
           ;
           and
           as
           this
           perhaps
           is
           the
           Original
           of
           that
           sort
           of
           Writing
           ,
           so
           it
           does
           thereby
           discover
           a
           great
           Air
           of
           the
           Allegorial
           Epick
           Poetry
           .
        
         
           Those
           on
           the
           other
           side
           argue
           thus
           :
           As
           according
           to
           a
           
             settled
             Maxim
          
           of
           Interpreting
           the
           Scriptures
           ,
           we
           should
           not
           without
           apparent
           Necessity
           quit
           the
           plain
           and
           
             literal
             Sense
          
           ,
           and
           embrace
           a
           
             foreign
             ,
             more
             strain'd
          
           and
           
             less
             obvious
             Meaning
          
           :
           so
           without
           the
           same
           necessity
           we
           should
           not
           turn
           the
           Relation
           of
           any
           Fact
           into
           Invention
           and
           Allegory
           .
           And
           to
           make
           it
           appear
           that
           there
           is
           no
           such
           reason
           in
           this
           Case
           ,
           they
           alledge
           that
           there
           is
           nothing
           related
           in
           this
           Book
           ,
           but
           what
           may
           well
           be
           suppos'd
           to
           have
           actually
           happened
           ;
           
           that
           though
           many
           things
           appear
           improbable
           and
           hardly
           credible
           to
           the
           Reader
           ,
           this
           is
           no
           
             convincing
             proof
          
           that
           they
           were
           not
           
             real
             Facts
          
           .
           For
           all
           Men
           that
           are
           are
           verst
           in
           History
           will
           meet
           with
           many
           wonderful
           and
           improbable
           Occurrences
           ,
           which
           notwithstanding
           upon
           
             sufficient
             Evidence
          
           they
           are
           forc'd
           to
           believe
           ;
           and
           they
           say
           that
           for
           that
           reason
           ,
           because
           the
           Facts
           were
           so
           extraordinary
           and
           surprizing
           ,
           they
           were
           recorded
           in
           this
           Book
           for
           our
           Admiration
           and
           Instruction
           .
           They
           had
           rather
           give
           their
           Assent
           to
           some
           things
           that
           sound
           only
           harsh
           and
           improbable
           ,
           for
           many
           such
           Relations
           are
           undoubtedly
           true
           ,
           than
           by
           departing
           from
           the
           
             literal
             Sense
          
           encourage
           and
           embolden
           uncautious
           and
           
             wanton
             Wits
          
           to
           break
           in
           upon
           the
           Scriptures
           ,
           and
           turn
           the
           History
           of
           the
           Bible
           into
           Parables
           and
           Allegories
           ;
           for
           the
           Consequence
           of
           such
           a
           licentious
           way
           of
           interpreting
           the
           Scriptures
           they
           look
           on
           as
           very
           mischievous
           .
           They
           think
           that
           the
           unnecessary
           Concessions
           of
           some
           Divines
           in
           these
           Points
           tend
           mightily
           to
           unsettle
           Men
           in
           the
           Principles
           of
           their
           Religion
           ,
           and
           weaken
           their
           Reverence
           of
           
             Divine
             Revelation
          
           .
        
         
           They
           do
           indeed
           al●ow
           the
           appearance
           of
           Satan
           before
           the
           Throne
           of
           God
           ,
           and
           the
           Discourse
           on
           that
           Occasion
           to
           be
           an
           Allegory
           ,
           for
           there
           are
           cogent
           Reasons
           for
           it
           ;
           but
           for
           the
           rest
           of
           the
           relations
           in
           the
           Book
           they
           see
           no
           necessity
           of
           making
           them
           Allegorical
           also
           .
           There
           is
           the
           like
           Allegory
           us'd
           in
           the
           History
           of
           Ahab
           ,
           where
           't
           is
           said
           a
           Spirit
           appear'd
           before
           the
           Throne
           of
           God
           ,
           and
           offer'd
           to
           be
           a
           
             lying
             Spirit
          
           in
           the
           Mouths
           of
           
           Ahab's
           Prophets
           to
           perswade
           their
           Master
           to
           go
           down
           to
           War
           to
           
             R●amath
             Gilead
          
           ,
           and
           he
           had
           leave
           given
           him
           to
           do
           so
           :
           
           But
           though
           this
           be
           an
           Allegory
           ,
           yet
           without
           doubt
           all
           the
           rest
           of
           the
           Story
           about
           this
           Expedition
           of
           Ahab
           against
           the
           King
           of
           Syria
           was
           real
           .
           And
           to
           be
           more
           particular
           ,
           that
           
             Almighty
             God
          
           should
           permit
           the
           
             great
             Enemy
          
           of
           Mankind
           to
           afflict
           and
           persecute
           a
           great
           and
           a
           
             good
             Man
          
           for
           the
           proof
           of
           his
           Constancy
           and
           Uprightness
           ;
           and
           to
           make
           his
           Vertues
           more
           conspicuous
           and
           exemplary
           ,
           that
           he
           should
           leave
           him
           for
           a
           time
           under
           this
           sharp
           and
           severe
           Trial
           ,
           and
           at
           last
           deliver
           the
           
             patient
             Sufferer
          
           ,
           and
           restore
           him
           to
           his
           former
           flourishing
           Condition
           :
           This
           has
           nothing
           in
           it
           but
           what
           is
           very
           agreeable
           to
           the
           Course
           of
           
             Divine
             Providence
          
           ;
           and
           if
           there
           be
           any
           Facts
           in
           the
           Book
           ,
           that
           seem
           improbable
           ,
           't
           is
           owing
           to
           the
           Poetical
           manner
           of
           representing
           them
           ,
           in
           which
           perhaps
           the
           
             Time
             ,
             Order
             ,
             Place
          
           ,
           and
           other
           Circumstances
           ,
           are
           not
           so
           nicely
           observed
           .
        
         
           But
           whether
           this
           be
           an
           Epick
           ,
           or
           barely
           an
           
             Historical
             Poem
          
           ,
           which
           I
           leave
           undecided
           ,
           the
           Character
           of
           Job
           may
           in
           my
           Opinion
           be
           every
           way
           proper
           for
           the
           first
           .
           The
           Hero
           is
           indeed
           a
           passive
           one
           ,
           and
           this
           perhaps
           will
           be
           made
           a
           great
           Objection
           against
           this
           Assertion
           ;
           because
           Homer's
           and
           
           Virgil's
           Heroes
           are
           very
           active
           ●ersons
           .
           For
           the
           Criticks
           forming
           their
           Model
           of
           an
           
             Heroick
             Poem
          
           intirely
           upon
           the
           Example
           of
           these
           
             two
             famous
             Writers
          
           ,
           make
           great
           and
           illustrious
           Actions
           necessary
           to
           the
           Hero
           of
           the
           Poem
           ,
           which
           con●orming
           my self
           to
           their
           Precepts
           ,
           I
           have
           formerly
           asserted
           .
           But
           upon
           what
           Authority
           is
           this
           imposed
           on
           the
           World
           ?
           What
           Commission
           had
           these
           two
           Poets
           to
           settle
           the
           limits
           and
           extent
           of
           
             Epick
             Poetry
          
           ,
           or
           who
           can
           prove
           they
           ever
           intended
           to
           do
           so
           ?
           They
           wrote
           according
           to
           their
           own
           Notions
           
           and
           Measures
           ;
           and
           must
           all
           future
           Ages
           be
           bound
           up
           to
           follow
           their
           Examples
           ,
           without
           producing
           any
           other
           Reason
           ?
           Yet
           this
           Opinion
           ,
           how
           groundless
           and
           absurd
           soever
           it
           appears
           ,
           some
           imagine
           ,
           has
           been
           the
           
             great
             obstruction
          
           to
           the
           Improvement
           of
           Poetry
           among
           the
           Moderns
           .
           But
           it
           may
           be
           urged
           that
           the
           Book
           of
           Job
           was
           written
           before
           Homer
           and
           Virgil
           ,
           and
           the
           World
           has
           as
           much
           reason
           to
           be
           governed
           by
           this
           Example
           ,
           as
           by
           that
           of
           the
           
             Pagan
             Writers
          
           .
           And
           if
           we
           look
           into
           the
           Reason
           of
           the
           Matter
           ,
           and
           reflect
           on
           the
           End
           and
           Design
           of
           an
           Epick
           ●oem
           ,
           which
           is
           to
           instruct
           the
           World
           in
           some
           important
           
             Moral
             Truth
          
           ,
           by
           the
           Narration
           of
           some
           great
           and
           illustrious
           Subject-Matter
           ,
           there
           is
           no
           question
           but
           the
           relation
           of
           the
           Sufferings
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           the
           Actions
           of
           
             great
             Persons
          
           ,
           are
           very
           conducive
           to
           that
           end
           ;
           and
           indeed
           what
           else
           is
           the
           Subject
           of
           the
           Odysses
           ?
           'T
           is
           true
           ,
           the
           Iliad
           is
           all
           active
           ,
           and
           a
           very
           
             fighting
             Poem
          
           ;
           but
           if
           the
           Odysses
           be
           consider'd
           ,
           't
           is
           of
           another
           nature
           ,
           there
           is
           more
           a
           great
           deal
           of
           the
           
             Heroes
             Sufferings
          
           not
           evaded
           by
           Arms
           ,
           but
           by
           little
           Tricks
           and
           Subtilties
           ,
           than
           there
           is
           of
           Action
           ;
           and
           yet
           Mr.
           Rapin
           accounts
           this
           the
           more
           
             perfect
             Poem
          
           .
           In
           short
           ,
           't
           is
           hard
           to
           offer
           any
           Reason
           why
           the
           Hero
           of
           the
           Poem
           may
           not
           be
           as
           well
           active
           as
           passive
           .
           If
           it
           be
           said
           ,
           the
           Authority
           of
           Homer
           is
           against
           it
           (
           for
           as
           for
           Virgil
           he
           is
           but
           a
           Copier
           of
           
           Homer's
           Model
           )
           the
           answer
           is
           ,
           that
           the
           Authority
           of
           the
           
             Book
             of
             Job
          
           is
           
             for
             it
          
           ;
           and
           moreover
           that
           Homer
           is
           of
           this
           Opinion
           in
           his
           second
           ,
           th●
           against
           it
           in
           his
           first
           Poem
           .
           If
           it
           be
           said
           that
           Reason
           is
           against
           it
           ,
           let
           that
           Reason
           be
           produc'd
           ;
           let
           it
           be
           shown
           that
           the
           Sufferings
           of
           a
           
             great
             Man
          
           
           manag'd
           with
           
             equal
             Skill
          
           ,
           will
           not
           equally
           serve
           the
           Ends
           of
           
             Epick
             Poetry
          
           .
           As
           for
           what
           the
           Criticks
           say
           on
           this
           Point
           ,
           't
           is
           plain
           that
           Homer
           has
           been
           the
           
             great
             Lawgiver
          
           to
           those
           Men
           ;
           they
           have
           done
           little
           but
           turn'd
           his
           Examples
           into
           Precepts
           ;
           and
           bringing
           no
           Reasons
           to
           support
           what
           they
           assert
           ,
           they
           are
           of
           no
           weight
           in
           this
           
             Matter
             .
             Job
          
           then
           is
           a
           Hero
           proper
           for
           an
           
             Epick
             Poem
          
           ,
           an
           Illustrious
           Person
           fit
           to
           support
           the
           Dignity
           of
           that
           Character
           :
           He
           is
           by
           the
           Instigation
           of
           Satan
           brought
           into
           miserable
           Streights
           and
           unparalell'd
           Sufferings
           ,
           to
           try
           his
           Constancy
           and
           Integrity
           .
           He
           appears
           brave
           in
           Distress
           ,
           and
           valiant
           in
           Affliction
           ,
           maintains
           his
           Vertue
           ,
           and
           with
           that
           his
           Character
           ,
           under
           the
           most
           powerful
           Temptations
           ,
           and
           exasperating
           Provocations
           that
           the
           Malice
           of
           Hell
           could
           invent
           ,
           and
           thereby
           gives
           a
           most
           noble
           Example
           of
           
             passive
             Fortitude
          
           ,
           a
           Character
           no
           way
           inferiour
           to
           that
           of
           the
           
             active
             Hero.
          
           When
           the
           various
           Efforts
           to
           break
           this
           
             mighty
             Man's
          
           Invincible
           Constancy
           prov'd
           ineffectual
           ,
           he
           is
           at
           the
           latter
           end
           of
           the
           
             Poem
             acquitted
          
           by
           
             God
             Himself
          
           ,
           and
           rewarded
           highly
           for
           his
           Patience
           and
           Perseverance
           ;
           whereby
           the
           Justice
           of
           Divine
           Providence
           is
           asserted
           ,
           and
           Mankind
           encouraged
           to
           be
           stedfast
           in
           their
           Religion
           and
           Integrity
           ,
           upon
           a
           sure
           Belief
           that
           Vertue
           will
           not
           always
           be
           neglected
           ,
           but
           will
           at
           last
           receive
           a
           suitable
           Reward
           .
        
         
           Whatever
           others
           assert
           ,
           in
           my
           Judgment
           the
           Hero
           of
           the
           Poem
           ought
           not
           to
           be
           drawn
           without
           some
           defects
           ;
           for
           as
           the
           representing
           of
           a
           perfect
           Idea
           of
           Vertue
           ,
           which
           is
           never
           to
           be
           found
           in
           any
           
             meer
             Man
          
           ,
           offends
           against
           the
           Establish'd
           Rule
           in
           
             Epick
             Writings
          
           ,
           which
           excludes
           all
           things
           improbable
           ,
           so
           
           instead
           of
           promoting
           ,
           it
           rather
           obstructs
           the
           End
           of
           that
           Poetry
           :
           For
           a
           perfect
           Idea
           of
           Vertue
           and
           Excellency
           may
           amaze
           and
           dazle
           us
           ;
           but
           when
           propounded
           for
           our
           Imitation
           ,
           it
           will
           rather
           discourage
           ,
           than
           excite
           us
           :
           But
           when
           the
           Examples
           of
           Vertue
           that
           are
           set
           before
           us
           ,
           are
           discern'd
           to
           have
           a
           mixture
           of
           Imperfection
           ,
           we
           are
           provok'd
           and
           embolden'd
           to
           form
           our selves
           according
           to
           such
           a
           Pattern
           ,
           where
           there
           appears
           no
           Impossibility
           ,
           as
           there
           does
           in
           the
           other
           ,
           ●f
           becoming
           like
           it
           .
        
         
           This
           Poem
           seems
           to
           me
           to
           abound
           in
           all
           kinds
           of
           Beauties
           ,
           which
           are
           admir'd
           in
           Poetical
           Writings
           .
           What
           noble
           strains
           of
           Eloquence
           occurr
           in
           every
           place
           where
           they
           ought
           to
           appear
           ,
           especially
           in
           the
           
             latter
             part
          
           of
           this
           Book
           ?
           How
           tender
           and
           moving
           are
           the
           Thoughts
           in
           the
           Passionate
           ,
           how
           
             proper
             ,
             just
          
           and
           instructive
           in
           the
           Moral
           ,
           how
           
             sublime
             ,
             admirable
          
           and
           majestick
           in
           the
           other
           Parts
           ?
           What
           Variety
           is
           there
           of
           elegant
           Expression
           ,
           beautiful
           Similitudes
           ,
           bold
           and
           surprizing
           Metaphors
           ,
           natural
           ,
           strong
           ,
           and
           lively
           Images
           and
           Descriptions
           throughout
           the
           whole
           ?
           In
           many
           of
           these
           it
           exceeds
           ,
           and
           in
           all
           of
           them
           it
           equals
           the
           most
           
             Celebrated
             Writings
          
           of
           the
           Greeks
           and
           Romans
           .
           And
           if
           it
           should
           hereafter
           happen
           ,
           that
           Homer
           or
           Virgil
           should
           be
           well
           Translated
           into
           the
           English
           Language
           ,
           I
           am
           very
           confident
           that
           this
           Book
           ,
           were
           it
           Translated
           or
           Paraphrased
           with
           
             equal
             Skill
          
           ,
           would
           outshine
           them
           in
           all
           
             sorts
             of
             Perfection
          
           .
           But
           as
           to
           the
           chief
           End
           and
           Design
           of
           an
           Epick
           Poem
           ,
           the
           giving
           a
           noble
           and
           true
           Idea
           of
           the
           
             Divine
             Being
          
           ,
           the
           Justification
           of
           his
           Providence
           ,
           the
           Instruction
           of
           Mankind
           in
           
             Moral
             Duties
          
           ,
           and
           animating
           the
           Reader
           from
           proper
           
           Motives
           to
           imitate
           the
           Illustrious
           Examples
           of
           Piety
           and
           Vertue
           set
           before
           them
           ,
           in
           this
           respect
           ,
           which
           is
           infinitely
           the
           most
           considerable
           ,
           this
           of
           Job
           put
           all
           the
           Poems
           of
           the
           
             Heathen
             World
          
           out
           of
           Countenance
           .
           How
           will
           
           Homer's
           wretched
           Tribe
           of
           Gods
           and
           Goddesses
           ,
           introduc'd
           with
           all
           the
           Follies
           and
           Vices
           too
           of
           
             corrupt
             Mankind
          
           appear
           to
           the
           World
           as
           now
           instructed
           and
           inlighten'd
           with
           the
           
             Christian
             Revelation
          
           ?
           And
           tho'
           Virgil
           is
           in
           that
           ,
           as
           in
           other
           things
           ,
           more
           judicious
           and
           cautious
           than
           the
           
             Greek
             Poet
          
           ,
           yet
           his
           Theology
           must
           be
           very
           odious
           to
           a
           
             Christian
             Reader
          
           ;
           and
           if
           the
           Machines
           of
           these
           Poets
           in
           which
           so
           much
           of
           the
           Beauty
           of
           their
           Poems
           consists
           are
           so
           contemptible
           and
           ridiculous
           ,
           a
           great
           part
           of
           their
           Excellency
           is
           gone
           .
        
         
           There
           are
           indeed
           some
           few
           
             Moral
             Sentences
          
           interspers'd
           in
           these
           Poets
           ;
           but
           as
           they
           seem
           inserted
           only
           as
           Embellishments
           of
           the
           Writing
           ,
           so
           the
           Body
           of
           the
           Poem
           carries
           little
           Instruction
           in
           it
           .
           For
           my
           part
           ,
           when
           I
           consider
           these
           Poems
           ,
           I
           am
           of
           Mr.
           L●
           Clerk's
           Opinion
           ,
           that
           the
           Authors
           had
           nothing
           else
           in
           their
           view
           than
           to
           entertain
           and
           please
           the
           Reader
           ,
           
           and
           that
           all
           the
           Materials
           and
           Contrivance
           were
           accommodated
           to
           that
           End.
           'T
           is
           true
           ,
           Criticks
           in
           after-Ages
           ,
           a
           sort
           of
           Men
           who
           are
           very
           apt
           to
           discover
           in
           Writings
           many
           notable
           things
           that
           never
           enter'd
           into
           the
           
             Author's
             Thoughts
          
           ,
           have
           found
           out
           wise
           and
           instructive
           Morals
           in
           the
           Poems
           before-mention'd
           ;
           yet
           this
           seems
           an
           Invention
           of
           their
           own
           .
           For
           as
           the
           
             Learned
             Man
          
           before-mentioned
           observes
           ,
           't
           is
           scarce
           possible
           to
           relate
           any
           wonderful
           Action
           of
           a
           Great
           Person
           ,
           or
           any
           considerable
           Occurrence
           ,
           but
           't
           will
           be
           very
           easie
           to
           draw
           
           some
           
             Moral
             Inference
          
           from
           it
           ,
           tho'
           the
           Writer
           never
           had
           it
           in
           his
           Imagination
           .
           And
           the
           very
           same
           Person
           has
           with
           as
           great
           grounds
           of
           Probability
           drawn
           from
           the
           Iliad
           and
           the
           
             Aencis
             ,
             Morals
          
           very
           different
           from
           those
           that
           are
           commonly
           mention'd
           ,
           and
           has
           offer'd
           sufficient
           Reasons
           to
           make
           us
           doubtful
           whether
           the
           Morals
           attributed
           to
           these
           Poems
           were
           ever
           intended
           by
           the
           Authors
           .
           And
           if
           this
           be
           true
           of
           these
           two
           
             famous
             Writers
          
           ,
           that
           only
           the
           pleasing
           and
           amusing
           ,
           not
           the
           instructing
           of
           Mankind
           was
           their
           Design
           ,
           't
           is
           more
           apparently
           true
           of
           the
           greatest
           part
           of
           the
           Moderns
           ,
           especially
           the
           Dramatick
           Poets
           .
        
         
           Since
           this
           Book
           of
           Job
           ,
           and
           other
           Poetical
           parts
           of
           the
           Scripture
           ,
           some
           of
           which
           I
           have
           likewise
           undertaken
           to
           paraphrase
           ,
           does
           at
           least
           equal
           the
           
             chief
             Beauties
          
           of
           the
           Heathens
           ,
           and
           by
           their
           Vsefulness
           in
           their
           excellent
           Instructions
           infinitely
           excel
           them
           ,
           't
           is
           a
           Matter
           of
           Admiration
           that
           the
           Christian
           Poets
           should
           be
           so
           far
           enamour'd
           with
           the
           Pagan
           Writings
           ,
           as
           to
           form
           themselves
           entirely
           by
           their
           Patterns
           ,
           to
           be
           taken
           up
           with
           the
           Study
           of
           them
           to
           the
           
             total
             neglect
          
           of
           these
           
             inspir'd
             Writings
          
           .
           What
           pains
           and
           labour
           have
           our
           Men
           been
           at
           ,
           how
           great
           a
           part
           of
           their
           short
           Lives
           have
           they
           spent
           ,
           what
           a
           multitude
           of
           Volumes
           have
           they
           publish'd
           to
           illustrate
           the
           Meaning
           and
           discover
           the
           Excellencies
           of
           Greek
           and
           Latin
           Poets
           ,
           and
           to
           translate
           them
           into
           their
           own
           Languages
           ?
           If
           this
           were
           the
           Work
           of
           Gentlemen
           ,
           that
           had
           nothing
           else
           to
           employ
           themselves
           about
           ,
           and
           had
           no
           other
           Capacity
           of
           being
           useful
           to
           Mankind
           ,
           it
           might
           perhaps
           pass
           for
           an
           inoffensive
           Amusement
           ,
           and
           a
           pardonable
           ●ort
           of
           Idleness
           .
           But
           't
           is
           indeed
           
           wonderful
           that
           to
           give
           a
           new
           Sense
           to
           an
           Expression
           in
           an
           ancient
           Poet
           ,
           to
           slop
           a
           Period
           more
           exactly
           ,
           to
           rectifie
           a
           Word
           ,
           to
           give
           a
           
             truer
             Spelling
          
           to
           a
           Man's
           Name
           ,
           or
           to
           restore
           a
           
             corrupt
             Sentence
          
           ,
           should
           be
           look'd
           on
           as
           such
           a
           Perfection
           ,
           as
           sets
           a
           Man
           in
           the
           first
           Rank
           of
           
             Learned
             Men
          
           ;
           and
           that
           a
           kind
           of
           Knowledge
           which
           does
           not
           make
           Mankind
           any
           ways
           wiser
           or
           better
           ,
           should
           procure
           a
           
             mighty
             Reputation
          
           ,
           and
           dignifie
           the
           Owners
           of
           it
           with
           the
           
             honourable
             Titles
          
           of
           
             great
             Criticks
          
           ,
           and
           Masters
           of
           
             polite
             Learning
          
           .
        
         
           I
           would
           not
           derogate
           from
           the
           
             true
             value
          
           of
           
             Classical
             Knowledge
          
           .
           The
           Greek
           and
           
             Latin
             Poets
          
           should
           be
           study'd
           ,
           that
           we
           may
           understand
           those
           Languages
           of
           which
           there
           is
           such
           a
           
             manifest
             Necessity
          
           :
           But
           't
           is
           most
           evident
           ,
           that
           for
           the
           Sense
           ,
           for
           the
           noble
           and
           sublime
           Thoughts
           ,
           and
           what
           is
           more
           than
           all
           other
           Considerations
           ,
           for
           the
           forming
           a
           Man's
           Mind
           according
           to
           the
           
             justest
             Ideas
          
           of
           Vertue
           and
           
             true
             Wisdom
          
           ,
           and
           thereby
           promoting
           his
           Honour
           and
           his
           Happiness
           ,
           the
           Poetical
           parts
           of
           the
           Scripture
           have
           ,
           as
           before
           suggested
           ,
           an
           
             infinite
             advantage
          
           above
           all
           others
           put
           together
           ,
           and
           therefore
           one
           would
           think
           should
           not
           be
           less
           worthy
           of
           a
           
           Christian's
           Study
           and
           Application
           ,
           than
           Homer
           and
           his
           Followers
           .
        
         
           The
           Language
           in
           which
           this
           Book
           was
           written
           is
           Hebrew
           ;
           and
           considering
           the
           very
           great
           difference
           there
           is
           between
           the
           Stil●
           or
           manner
           of
           Expression
           in
           the
           Eastern
           and
           Western
           part
           of
           the
           World
           ,
           their
           Eloquence
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           their
           Customs
           and
           Habits
           ,
           being
           of
           another
           kind
           than
           ours
           ,
           't
           is
           very
           strange
           that
           a
           
             literal
             Translation
          
           of
           this
           Book
           as
           't
           is
           now
           found
           in
           
           the
           Bible
           ,
           especially
           considering
           how
           long
           time
           since
           it
           was
           written
           ,
           how
           little
           the
           Language
           is
           understood
           ,
           and
           how
           much
           the
           Idiom
           of
           it
           is
           lost
           ,
           should
           not
           sound
           much
           more
           harsh
           ,
           and
           be
           less
           capable
           of
           being
           understood
           than
           it
           is
           .
           I
           am
           confident
           that
           if
           several
           of
           the
           
             Greek
             Poets
          
           should
           be
           
             verbally
             translated
          
           ,
           they
           would
           be
           more
           obscure
           ,
           if
           not
           altogether
           unintelligible
           .
           And
           if
           in
           a
           
             literal
             Translation
          
           the
           Book
           of
           
             Job
             written
          
           in
           an
           
             Eastern
             Language
          
           does
           so
           much
           affect
           us
           ,
           and
           raises
           in
           our
           Minds
           such
           an
           Admiration
           of
           its
           Beauty
           and
           Majesty
           ,
           what
           a
           wonderful
           and
           inimitable
           kind
           of
           Eloquence
           must
           be
           suppos'd
           in
           the
           Original
           ,
           when
           we
           can't
           
             translate
             verbatim
          
           a
           
             good
             Poem
          
           from
           one
           
             Modern
             Language
          
           into
           another
           ,
           tho'
           it
           be
           done
           by
           the
           nearest
           Neighbours
           ,
           without
           a
           mighty
           diminution
           of
           its
           Excellence
           ?
        
         
           As
           to
           the
           Time
           when
           Job
           liv'd
           ,
           it
           is
           highly
           probable
           that
           he
           was
           
           Moses's
           Predecessor
           ,
           or
           at
           least
           his
           Contemporary
           ;
           and
           that
           for
           these
           Reasons
           .
           This
           righteous
           and
           
             devout
             Man
          
           was
           allow'd
           to
           offer
           Sacrifices
           to
           God
           ,
           which
           only
           the
           Priests
           under
           the
           
             Mosaical
             Dispensation
          
           had
           Authority
           to
           do
           ,
           and
           that
           only
           before
           the
           Tabernacle
           or
           Temple
           .
           This
           
             devout
             Person
          
           seems
           intirely
           ignorant
           of
           the
           Modes
           of
           the
           
             Jewish
             Religion
          
           ,
           and
           of
           their
           manner
           of
           asking
           Counsel
           of
           God
           either
           by
           Urim
           and
           Thummim
           ,
           or
           by
           the
           Prophets
           ;
           and
           therefore
           't
           is
           evident
           the
           
             Mosaical
             Scheme
          
           of
           Religion
           was
           not
           yet
           instituted
           .
           In
           the
           whole
           Book
           of
           Job
           there
           is
           no
           mention
           made
           of
           the
           Law
           and
           the
           Prophets
           ,
           nor
           of
           the
           many
           Miracles
           wrought
           either
           in
           Egypt
           ,
           or
           in
           the
           Passage
           of
           the
           Children
           of
           Israel
           to
           Canaan
           ,
           though
           nothing
           could
           have
           been
           more
           pertinent
           and
           sutable
           to
           the
           
           Design
           of
           the
           Author
           of
           this
           Book
           ,
           had
           Job
           liv'd
           after
           that
           
             wonderful
             Deliverance
          
           ;
           and
           there
           is
           scarce
           any
           Writer
           that
           follow'd
           that
           Time
           ,
           that
           does
           not
           mention
           or
           allude
           to
           that
           
             famous
             History
          
           .
           And
           this
           is
           yet
           farther
           confirm'd
           by
           the
           long
           Life
           of
           Job
           ,
           which
           was
           protracted
           to
           
             two
             hundred
          
           Years
           ,
           which
           agrees
           to
           the
           Times
           of
           the
           
             Old
             Patriarchs
          
           .
        
         
           As
           to
           the
           Land
           of
           Utz
           ,
           the
           Country
           in
           which
           this
           
             great
             Man
          
           liv'd
           ,
           there
           are
           different
           Opinions
           ,
           occasion'd
           chiefly
           by
           the
           uncertainty
           which
           Utz
           it
           was
           (
           for
           three
           are
           mention'd
           )
           from
           whom
           it
           receiv'd
           its
           Name
           .
           The
           first
           Utz
           the
           Son
           of
           Aram
           is
           mention'd
           ,
           
             Gen.
             10.
             23.
          
           who
           is
           reported
           to
           be
           the
           Founder
           of
           Damascus
           and
           Trachonitis
           ;
           and
           many
           Writers
           ,
           for
           this
           reason
           ,
           conclude
           the
           Seat
           of
           Job
           to
           have
           been
           in
           the
           Plain
           of
           Jordan
           in
           the
           Region
           of
           Trachonitis
           ,
           where
           the
           Tomb
           of
           Job
           is
           shown
           to
           Strangers
           at
           this
           day
           :
           Others
           place
           it
           in
           the
           Famous
           Valley
           of
           Damascus
           .
        
         
           A
           second
           Utz
           ,
           the
           Son
           of
           Nachor
           is
           mention'd
           ,
           Gen.
           22.
           21.
           from
           him
           the
           Country
           where
           he
           liv'd
           is
           call'd
           Usitis
           or
           Ausitis
           ,
           which
           by
           Ptolemy
           is
           plac'd
           near
           Euphrates
           ,
           and
           the
           City
           Babylon
           ;
           and
           therefore
           many
           Authors
           believe
           Job
           had
           his
           Habitation
           in
           that
           part
           of
           Arabia
           .
        
         
           A
           third
           Utz
           ,
           who
           ,
           as
           Spanh●mius
           observes
           ,
           was
           a
           Horite
           of
           the
           Posterity
           of
           Sehir
           ,
           and
           not
           as
           commonly
           accounted
           of
           the
           Race
           of
           Esau
           ,
           is
           mention'd
           ,
           
             Gen.
             36.
             28.
          
           the
           Horites
           being
           driven
           out
           by
           the
           Edomites
           ,
           their
           Country
           was
           after
           that
           call'd
           Idumea
           ,
           which
           has
           for
           its
           
             bounds
             Arabia
             ,
             Canaan
          
           ,
           and
           the
           
             Red
             Sea
          
           ,
           and
           in
           this
           Country
           many
           believe
           was
           the
           Habitation
           of
           Job
           .
        
         
           But
           if
           a
           Man
           could
           remove
           the
           Obstructions
           of
           
             great
             Learning
          
           and
           
             Critical
             Remarks
          
           ,
           methinks
           it
           
           should
           be
           a
           very
           easie
           matter
           to
           settle
           this
           
             controverted
             Point
          
           .
           `
           T
           is
           allow'd
           by
           all
           ,
           that
           Utz
           the
           Country
           of
           Job
           was
           expos'd
           to
           the
           Incursions
           and
           Depredations
           of
           the
           Chaldeans
           ;
           and
           't
           is
           allowed
           likewise
           that
           Chaldea
           was
           Eastward
           of
           Arabia
           .
           Now
           suppose
           that
           in
           our
           
             English
             History
          
           there
           had
           been
           mention'd
           a
           
             great
             Man
          
           ,
           that
           had
           in
           ancient
           Times
           been
           plunder'd
           by
           a
           Band
           of
           Scotch-men
           ;
           and
           the
           Habitation
           or
           Country
           of
           this
           
             unfortunate
             Man
          
           being
           mention'd
           by
           an
           obscure
           or
           obsolete
           Word
           ,
           a
           Controversie
           should
           arise
           in
           what
           part
           of
           England
           this
           Man
           lived
           ;
           would
           not
           any
           Man
           that
           was
           derivered
           from
           the
           encumbrance
           of
           
             great
             Reading
          
           and
           
             learned
             Observations
          
           ,
           presently
           conclude
           ,
           that
           he
           lived
           in
           the
           North
           part
           of
           England
           not
           far
           from
           the
           Borders
           of
           Scotland
           ?
           And
           must
           it
           not
           have
           been
           a
           Critick
           of
           extraordinary
           Sagacity
           that
           should
           have
           found
           out
           his
           Seat
           in
           Middlesex
           ,
           or
           at
           the
           
           Land's
           End
           ?
           And
           yet
           those
           that
           place
           the
           Country
           of
           Job
           in
           Idumea
           ,
           or
           near
           Damascus
           ,
           remove
           it
           farther
           from
           Chaldea
           than
           those
           two
           Places
           before-named
           are
           from
           Scotland
           .
           'T
           is
           not
           therefore
           to
           be
           doubted
           but
           that
           the
           Country
           of
           Job
           was
           in
           the
           Eastern
           part
           of
           Arabia
           ,
           and
           't
           is
           probable
           't
           was
           near
           the
           River
           Euphrates
           ,
           and
           that
           he
           was
           of
           the
           Posterity
           of
           Nachor
           .
           The
           ▪
           Stories
           therefore
           of
           
           Job's
           Well
           near
           Jerusalem
           ,
           of
           his
           Scpulchre
           in
           the
           Plain
           of
           Jordan
           ,
           and
           of
           the
           Region
           in
           the
           North
           of
           Syria
           ,
           which
           the
           Inhabitants
           shew
           to
           Travellers
           for
           the
           Seat
           of
           Job
           ,
           are
           all
           
             Modern
             Fables
          
           ,
           and
           not
           to
           be
           regarded
           .
           But
           much
           more
           ridiculous
           is
           the
           ●●rror
           of
           those
           Commentat●rs
           ,
           who
           make
           Constantinople
           to
           have
           been
           the
           Seat
           of
           Job
           :
           The
           Scpulchre
           of
           Job
           in
           Armenia
           that
           favours
           this
           Opinion
           ,
           't
           is
           very
           probable
           according
           to
           the
           Conjecture
           of
           several
           learned
           Men
           ,
           was
           erected
           in
           honour
           of
           some
           Captain
           of
           the
           Turks
           of
           that
           Name
           .
        
         
         
           As
           to
           the
           Time
           when
           the
           Author
           of
           this
           Book
           liv'●
           ▪
           there
           are
           many
           different
           Opinions
           .
           Some
           believe
           〈◊〉
           this
           Book
           was
           wrote
           in
           the
           Time
           when
           the
           Israelites
           were
           under
           the
           Aegyptian
           Bondage
           ,
           and
           that
           it
           was
           compos'd
           to
           encourage
           them
           to
           a
           
             patient
             suffering
          
           of
           their
           Afflictions
           ,
           and
           to
           confirm
           them
           in
           their
           dependance
           upon
           God
           for
           Deliverance
           .
           And
           those
           of
           this
           Opinion
           believe
           ,
           that
           either
           Moses
           himself
           was
           the
           Author
           ,
           or
           at
           least
           the
           Translator
           of
           it
           ;
           and
           that
           this
           was
           a
           Tradition
           among
           the
           ancient
           Jews
           several
           Authors
           testifie
           .
           Others
           are
           of
           Opinion
           ,
           that
           the
           Writing
           was
           of
           much
           later
           date
           ,
           and
           give
           these
           Reasons
           for
           it
           .
           They
           alledge
           that
           there
           are
           many
           Syriack
           and
           Arabick
           Words
           ,
           and
           Forms
           of
           Expression
           that
           were
           not
           in
           use
           among
           the
           ancient
           Hebrew
           Writers
           ,
           the
           Interpretation
           of
           which
           must
           be
           fetch'd
           from
           the
           Rabbins
           ;
           that
           there
           are
           many
           Elegancies
           relating
           to
           the
           Constellations
           ,
           and
           several
           Fish
           and
           Birds
           which
           shew
           it
           to
           be
           of
           a
           Modern
           Date
           ,
           and
           from
           hence
           they
           conclude
           that
           it
           was
           then
           wrote
           when
           these
           Foreign
           words
           and
           manners
           of
           Expression
           were
           introduc'd
           into
           the
           
             Hebrew
             Language
          
           .
           They
           believe
           therefore
           that
           the
           Author
           liv'd
           after
           David
           and
           Solomon
           ,
           and
           before
           Ezekiel
           ,
           because
           he
           is
           mention'd
           by
           that
           Prophet
           .
        
         
           Some
           believe
           that
           Isaiah
           himself
           was
           the
           Author
           ,
           the
           time
           when
           he
           lived
           being
           very
           sutable
           to
           this
           Conjecture
           ,
           besides
           the
           Majesty
           and
           Sublimity
           of
           his
           Stile
           ,
           his
           singular
           Erudition
           ,
           the
           similitude
           of
           Character
           ,
           and
           many
           Words
           ,
           and
           Forms
           of
           speaking
           common
           to
           them
           both
           .
           Grotius
           imagines
           the
           Author
           to
           be
           an
           Hebrew
           ,
           because
           after
           the
           Custom
           of
           that
           Nation
           ,
           he
           calls
           Arabia
           the
           East
           ,
           tho'
           others
           suppose
           he
           was
           an
           Idumean
           ,
           because
           he
           abounds
           with
           Syriack
           and
           Arabick
           Words
           :
           Whether
           he
           was
           the
           one
           or
           the
           other
           ,
           't
           is
           plain
           the
           Author
           
           was
           well
           vers'd
           in
           the
           
             Hebrew
             Language
          
           and
           those
           of
           the
           Neighbouring
           Countries
           :
           And
           that
           in
           the
           Writing
           of
           this
           Book
           he
           was
           under
           the
           direction
           and
           guidance
           of
           
             Divine
             Inspiration
          
           ,
           has
           been
           universally
           acknowledged
           by
           the
           Jews
           and
           Christians
           in
           all
           Ages
           .
        
         
           But
           one
           single
           Reflexion
           prevails
           with
           me
           to
           believe
           that
           the
           Author
           was
           of
           the
           oldest
           date
           ;
           and
           that
           is
           ,
           that
           I
           cannot
           imagine
           that
           if
           he
           had
           lived
           after
           the
           Deliverance
           of
           the
           Children
           of
           Israel
           from
           their
           Aegyptian
           Bondage
           ,
           and
           after
           the
           Institution
           of
           the
           
             Mosaical
             Scheme
          
           of
           Religion
           ,
           he
           could
           have
           been
           so
           perfectly
           silent
           as
           to
           both
           .
           'T
           is
           hardly
           to
           be
           imagin'd
           that
           if
           he
           had
           liv'd
           
             after
             Moses
          
           he
           should
           ever
           have
           design'd
           to
           be
           so
           accurate
           and
           nice
           in
           relation
           to
           Time
           ,
           as
           not
           to
           say
           any
           thing
           in
           the
           whole
           Book
           but
           what
           might
           be
           well
           suppos'd
           to
           have
           been
           said
           by
           one
           who
           liv'd
           
             before
             Moses
          
           .
           This
           exact
           Care
           seems
           not
           agreeable
           to
           the
           Writers
           of
           that
           Age.
           And
           if
           it
           should
           be
           suppos'd
           ,
           that
           an
           Author
           ,
           that
           many
           years
           after
           took
           this
           Subject
           of
           Job
           to
           write
           upon
           ,
           should
           resolve
           to
           say
           nothing
           but
           what
           might
           be
           fit
           to
           be
           said
           in
           that
           time
           when
           Job
           liv'd
           ;
           yet
           't
           is
           a
           great
           difficulty
           to
           believe
           that
           he
           should
           be
           so
           successful
           ,
           as
           not
           in
           any
           one
           Place
           ,
           or
           in
           any
           one
           Expression
           ,
           to
           drop
           any
           thing
           that
           should
           mention
           or
           allude
           to
           some
           Matters
           of
           Fact
           that
           happen'd
           after
           ;
           especially
           such
           famous
           ones
           ,
           as
           the
           Miracles
           wrought
           when
           the
           Israelites
           were
           brought
           out
           of
           Aegypt
           ,
           their
           Settlement
           in
           the
           Land
           of
           Canaan
           ,
           and
           the
           Rites
           of
           the
           Mosaical
           Religion
           .
           The
           same
           
             Reasons
             therefore
          
           that
           convince
           me
           that
           Job
           himself
           liv'd
           before
           ,
           or
           in
           the
           Time
           of
           Moses
           ,
           perswade
           me
           to
           think
           the
           Author
           of
           
             this
             Poem
          
           ,
           whoever
           he
           was
           ,
           did
           so
           too
           ;
           and
           therefore
           't
           is
           very
           probable
           that
           this
           of
           Job
           is
           the
           oldest
           Book
           in
           the
           World.
           
        
         
         
           The
           Argument
           of
           the
           Poem
           is
           this
           :
           Job
           ,
           a
           Prince
           in
           his
           Country
           ,
           of
           distinguish'd
           Piety
           and
           eminent
           Justice
           ,
           at
           the
           Entrance
           of
           the
           Narration
           ,
           is
           represented
           as
           happy
           as
           the
           favour
           of
           Heaven
           ,
           and
           the
           affluence
           of
           all
           
             Earthly
             Possessions
          
           can
           make
           him
           .
           From
           this
           
             present
             State
          
           of
           Prosperity
           he
           is
           all
           on
           a
           sudden
           ,
           by
           the
           permission
           of
           Providence
           ,
           for
           the
           trial
           of
           his
           Integrity
           ,
           depriv'd
           of
           his
           Estate
           ,
           his
           Children
           ,
           his
           Friends
           and
           Health
           ,
           and
           reduc'd
           to
           a
           Condition
           as
           perfectly
           miserable
           ,
           as
           his
           former
           had
           been
           happy
           .
           After
           this
           surprizing
           change
           of
           his
           Fortune
           ,
           to
           exasperate
           the
           bitterness
           and
           anguish
           of
           his
           Soul
           ,
           his
           Wife
           ,
           in
           a
           most
           profane
           manner
           ,
           provokes
           and
           tempts
           him
           to
           quit
           all
           his
           Pretensions
           to
           Piety
           ,
           and
           desperately
           to
           renounce
           all
           his
           dependence
           upon
           God
           ,
           and
           all
           expectations
           of
           Deliverance
           from
           him
           .
           In
           this
           ,
           she
           is
           imitated
           by
           the
           Aegyptians
           and
           
             old
             Grecians
          
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           other
           
             Idolatrous
             Countries
          
           ,
           who
           us'd
           under
           any
           
             great
             Calamities
          
           to
           rail
           bitterly
           at
           their
           Gods
           ,
           to
           pull
           down
           their
           Images
           ,
           and
           drag
           them
           about
           the
           Streets
           ,
           to
           be
           reveng'd
           on
           them
           for
           not
           preventing
           their
           misfortunes
           .
           After
           this
           
             three
             Persons
          
           ,
           eminent
           for
           their
           
             Birth
             ,
             Vertue
          
           and
           
             Wisdom
             ,
             Eliphaz
             ,
             Bildad
          
           and
           Zophar
           (
           perhaps
           Elihu
           was
           with
           Job
           before
           )
           went
           to
           comfort
           their
           distress'd
           Friend
           .
           Their
           Design
           was
           good
           ,
           and
           they
           considering
           that
           Wickedness
           was
           the
           meritorious
           Cause
           of
           Suffering
           ,
           and
           that
           
             Divine
             Justice
          
           was
           not
           to
           be
           clear'd
           ,
           if
           proffligate
           and
           impious
           Men
           should
           go
           unpunish'd
           ;
           and
           having
           themselves
           often
           seen
           as
           well
           as
           heard
           by
           Tradition
           from
           their
           Forefathers
           ,
           that
           wicked
           Nations
           and
           Families
           had
           frequently
           ,
           by
           the
           
             just
             Judgment
             of
             God
          
           ,
           been
           utterly
           destroy'd
           ,
           concluded
           that
           ,
           Job
           notwithstanding
           the
           
             outward
             Figure
          
           he
           made
           of
           a
           very
           upright
           and
           religious
           Person
           ,
           must
           needs
           be
           
           guilty
           of
           some
           great
           ,
           tho'
           secret
           Crimes
           :
           Otherwise
           they
           could
           not
           conceive
           how
           it
           was
           consistent
           with
           
             Divine
             Justice
          
           and
           Mercy
           to
           suffer
           him
           to
           be
           so
           very
           miserable
           .
           Their
           Opinion
           was
           ,
           that
           a
           
             good
             Man
          
           ,
           such
           as
           Job
           was
           suppos'd
           to
           be
           ,
           could
           never
           be
           so
           far
           forsaken
           of
           God
           ,
           and
           abandon'd
           to
           such
           
             prodigious
             Sufferings
          
           .
           This
           is
           the
           Point
           they
           labour
           to
           prove
           .
           They
           press
           this
           very
           hard
           on
           their
           afflicted
           Friend
           ,
           hoping
           thereby
           to
           bring
           him
           to
           a
           Confession
           of
           his
           Sins
           ,
           and
           a
           
             sutable
             Repentance
          
           ,
           upon
           which
           they
           believ'd
           ,
           as
           
             they
             often
          
           assur'd
           him
           ,
           God
           would
           withdraw
           his
           afflicting
           hand
           ,
           ease
           his
           Complaints
           ,
           and
           restore
           him
           to
           his
           
             former
             Prosperity
          
           .
           On
           the
           other
           hand
           ,
           Job
           ,
           who
           was
           sure
           he
           was
           no
           Hypocrite
           ,
           but
           that
           he
           was
           in
           good
           earnest
           a
           Lover
           of
           God
           and
           of
           his
           Neighbour
           ,
           and
           was
           not
           conscious
           of
           any
           such
           conceal'd
           and
           
             secret
             Guilt
          
           ,
           as
           his
           Friends
           reproach'd
           him
           with
           ,
           asserts
           in
           his
           defence
           ,
           that
           his
           Friends
           proceeded
           in
           their
           Debates
           on
           erroneous
           grounds
           :
           That
           they
           mistook
           his
           Case
           ,
           and
           the
           Methods
           of
           relieving
           him
           .
           He
           affirms
           that
           neither
           
             their
             Notions
          
           ,
           nor
           their
           Observations
           were
           true
           .
           For
           tho'
           they
           asserted
           the
           contrary
           ,
           he
           was
           fully
           assur'd
           that
           God
           did
           often
           afflict
           even
           with
           the
           
             greatest
             Severity
          
           many
           just
           and
           upright
           Men
           ,
           and
           suffer'd
           in
           the
           mean
           time
           the
           Enemies
           of
           God
           and
           Man
           to
           live
           in
           the
           most
           flourishing
           Condition
           ;
           and
           that
           therefore
           there
           could
           be
           no
           Argument
           drawnfrom
           〈◊〉
           Mans
           Sufferings
           that
           he
           was
           a
           wicked
           and
           
             unrighteous
             Person
          
           .
           In
           some
           of
           his
           Debates
           on
           this
           Head
           ,
           he
           is
           so
           
             far
             transported
          
           as
           to
           censure
           rashly
           the
           
             Divine
             Administration
          
           ,
           as
           if
           God
           had
           too
           little
           regard
           to
           the
           Piety
           and
           Righteousness
           of
           
             good
             Men
          
           ,
           whom
           he
           punish'd
           with
           so
           severe
           a
           hand
           ,
           whilst
           he
           
           favour'd
           the
           Wicked
           ,
           and
           prosper'd
           their
           Vndertakings
           ;
           
           or
           at
           least
           that
           he
           made
           not
           that
           distinction
           between
           them
           that
           the
           Iustice
           of
           
             Righteous
             Government
          
           requires
           .
           But
           as
           to
           himself
           his
           Anguish
           and
           Impatience
           rose
           to
           such
           a
           degree
           ,
           as
           vented
           themselves
           in
           many
           Expressions
           relating
           to
           
           God's
           Severity
           to
           him
           ,
           unbecoming
           an
           humble
           and
           
             patient
             Sufferer
          
           ,
           which
           made
           a
           
             learned
             Critick
          
           say
           ,
           that
           Job
           who
           had
           a
           
             good
             Cause
          
           ,
           discomposed
           by
           his
           Impatience
           manag'd
           it
           ill
           ,
           as
           his
           Friends
           had
           a
           bad
           one
           ,
           but
           manag'd
           it
           well
           .
           Their
           Debates
           being
           ended
           ,
           Elihu
           a
           wise
           young
           Man
           that
           had
           heard
           the
           Arguments
           on
           either
           side
           ,
           undertakes
           as
           Moderator
           to
           compose
           the
           Controversie
           ,
           and
           set
           them
           both
           right
           .
           He
           agrees
           with
           Eliphaz
           ,
           and
           his
           two
           Companions
           ,
           that
           God
           was
           a
           Hater
           of
           Wickedness
           and
           Irreligion
           ,
           and
           that
           he
           often
           punished
           those
           that
           were
           guilty
           of
           them
           ;
           but
           then
           he
           will
           not
           allow
           that
           Job
           may
           from
           thence
           be
           justly
           condemn'd
           as
           a
           wicked
           Man
           ,
           because
           a
           good
           Man
           may
           often
           be
           afflicted
           by
           God
           for
           great
           and
           wise
           Ends.
           On
           the
           other
           side
           ,
           tho'
           he
           does
           not
           censure
           Job
           for
           his
           Hypocrisie
           ,
           or
           any
           concealed
           or
           secret
           Guilt
           ,
           yet
           he
           condemns
           him
           for
           the
           Impatience
           he
           express'd
           in
           his
           Sufferings
           ,
           and
           for
           his
           bold
           and
           rash
           Expressions
           that
           seem'd
           to
           charge
           God
           with
           Injustice
           .
           After
           this
           
             God
             himself
          
           condescends
           to
           speak
           and
           put
           an
           end
           to
           their
           long
           Debate
           .
           He
           condemns
           Eliphaz
           ,
           and
           his
           
             two
             Friends
          
           ,
           for
           their
           unjust
           Censures
           of
           Job
           ,
           and
           Job
           for
           his
           unjust
           Censures
           of
           
             Divine
             Providence
          
           ;
           but
           on
           the
           comparison
           declares
           that
           Job
           had
           the
           
             better
             Cause
          
           ,
           and
           had
           spoken
           better
           of
           him
           than
           his
           Friends
           had
           done
           ;
           perhaps
           that
           Expression
           of
           
           Job's
           is
           alluded
           to
           ,
           
             The
             Lord
             has
             given
             ,
             and
             the
             Lord
             has
             taken
             away
             ,
             blessed
             be
             the
             Name
             of
             the
             Lord.
          
           Then
           he
           delivers
           him
           from
           his
           great
           Afflictions
           and
           restores
           him
           to
           his
           former
           happy
           Condition
           .
        
         
         
           'T
           is
           evident
           that
           the
           Design
           of
           the
           Book
           is
           to
           show
           that
           the
           Providence
           of
           God
           does
           not
           only
           guide
           and
           over-rule
           the
           highest
           and
           most
           
             important
             Affairs
          
           ,
           The
           Enterprizes
           of
           aspiring
           Princes
           ,
           and
           the
           Rise
           and
           Fall
           of
           States
           and
           Empires
           ,
           but
           that
           it
           inter●sts
           and
           mingles
           it self
           with
           all
           the
           Concerns
           of
           
             Humane
             Life
          
           ,
           and
           thereby
           prepares
           the
           Mind
           of
           the
           Reader
           to
           acknowledge
           him
           as
           the
           great
           Moderator
           of
           the
           World
           ,
           the
           Director
           of
           all
           our
           Actions
           ,
           and
           Disposer
           of
           all
           the
           Events
           that
           happen
           to
           Mankind
           .
           By
           which
           Impression
           he
           is
           dispos'd
           to
           submit
           himself
           and
           all
           his
           Concernments
           with
           humble
           Resignation
           to
           the
           
           Almighty's
           Righteous
           and
           Unerring
           Conduct
           .
        
         
           And
           more
           particularly
           ,
           the
           Design
           is
           to
           justifie
           the
           
             Divine
             Providence
          
           in
           suffering
           impious
           and
           flagitious
           Men
           to
           live
           in
           the
           undisturbed
           Enjoyment
           of
           all
           the
           Power
           and
           Plenty
           their
           Hearts
           can
           desire
           ,
           while
           good
           and
           upright
           Men
           are
           often
           overwhelmed
           with
           Poverty
           and
           Distress
           ,
           and
           expos'd
           to
           the
           scorn
           and
           outrage
           of
           their
           insulting
           Enemies
           .
           The
           solving
           of
           this
           difficulty
           ,
           which
           has
           so
           often
           puzled
           the
           Understanding
           ,
           and
           discomposed
           the
           Temper
           of
           the
           Wisest
           and
           Best
           of
           Men
           ,
           seems
           to
           be
           chiefly
           aim'd
           at
           in
           this
           Writing
           .
           And
           't
           is
           observable
           that
           in
           the
           Debates
           between
           Job
           and
           his
           Friends
           ,
           when
           they
           are
           prest
           with
           any
           difficulty
           concerning
           the
           
             Divine
             Administration
          
           of
           Affairs
           ,
           and
           are
           at
           a
           loss
           how
           to
           reconcile
           Occurrences
           with
           their
           own
           Notions
           of
           Iustice
           and
           Goodness
           ,
           they
           fly
           to
           
           God's
           
             Infinite
             Greatness
          
           ,
           and
           seem
           to
           resolve
           the
           Controversie
           into
           his
           
             absolute
             Sovereignty
          
           ,
           and
           
             uncontroulable
             Power
          
           ,
           which
           occasions
           many
           
             wonderful
             Descriptions
          
           of
           
           God's
           Majesty
           and
           Omnip●tence
           .
           They
           seem
           to
           think
           that
           when
           we
           are
           puzled
           and
           confounded
           ,
           and
           after
           all
           our
           Attempts
           can
           by
           no
           
           means
           account
           for
           the
           Proceedings
           of
           
             Divine
             Providence
          
           ,
           that
           directly
           thwart
           our
           Opinions
           of
           Wisdom
           and
           Justice
           ,
           we
           should
           enter
           upon
           the
           Contemplation
           of
           the
           
             Glorious
             Attributes
          
           of
           God
           ,
           and
           consider
           they
           so
           far
           transcend
           all
           the
           low
           
             created
             Perfections
          
           in
           Man
           ,
           that
           ours
           are
           by
           no
           means
           to
           be
           a
           measure
           of
           his
           .
           They
           may
           and
           do
           assist
           us
           in
           many
           Instances
           ,
           as
           
             faint
             Representations
          
           of
           the
           
             Divine
             Excellency
          
           ;
           but
           whenever
           we
           see
           any
           Conduct
           of
           
             Divine
             Providence
          
           that
           we
           can't
           reduce
           to
           our
           ways
           of
           Reasoning
           ,
           we
           should
           humbly
           adore
           and
           not
           dispute
           .
           We
           should
           fetch
           a
           Solution
           from
           the
           Sovereignty
           and
           boundless
           Perfections
           in
           God
           ,
           who
           is
           always
           Good
           ,
           and
           Iust
           ,
           and
           Wise
           ,
           even
           when
           in
           his
           Administration
           he
           seems
           to
           be
           most
           the
           contrary
           .
           And
           't
           is
           very
           plain
           that
           when
           God
           bespeaks
           them
           in
           the
           latter
           end
           of
           the
           Book
           ,
           he
           insists
           on
           no
           other
           Justification
           of
           his
           Proceedings
           with
           Men
           ,
           than
           his
           Dominion
           and
           Property
           ,
           his
           absolute
           Sovereignty
           ,
           and
           transcendent
           Greatness
           ,
           that
           render
           him
           unaccountable
           able
           to
           his
           Creatures
           for
           all
           his
           Actions
           .
           And
           therefore
           in
           the
           sharpest
           and
           severest
           Trials
           ,
           when
           Providence
           seems
           vigilant
           and
           industrious
           ,
           as
           Job
           expresses
           it
           ,
           to
           find
           occasions
           of
           afflicting
           ,
           when
           it
           runs
           counter
           to
           all
           our
           Desires
           ,
           defeats
           our
           Hopes
           ,
           and
           disappoints
           all
           our
           Designs
           ;
           in
           such
           a
           hard
           Case
           we
           are
           to
           moderate
           our
           Passions
           ,
           submit
           our
           Wills
           and
           our
           Reason
           too
           ,
           and
           acquiesce
           in
           this
           Belief
           ,
           that
           nothing
           is
           more
           certain
           than
           that
           God
           can
           do
           his
           Creature
           no
           wrong
           ,
           and
           that
           in
           all
           his
           Dispensations
           he
           has
           both
           wise
           and
           gracious
           Designs
           ,
           tho'
           our
           shallow
           and
           
             incompetent
             Reason
          
           is
           not
           able
           to
           discern
           them
           .
        
         
           'T
           is
           probable
           that
           one
           Reason
           why
           we
           are
           apt
           to
           censure
           
           God's
           Proceedings
           is
           ,
           that
           we
           take
           his
           Idea
           too
           nicely
           from
           our selves
           .
           For
           tho'
           we
           must
           form
           our
           
           Idea
           of
           him
           from
           the
           Contemplation
           of
           our selves
           ,
           yet
           this
           must
           not
           be
           too
           strict
           ,
           nor
           extended
           too
           far
           .
           For
           't
           is
           plain
           that
           
           God's
           Knowledge
           is
           another
           thing
           from
           ours
           ;
           he
           knows
           by
           one
           single
           Act
           of
           Intuition
           ,
           we
           know
           by
           Reasoning
           ,
           that
           is
           by
           deducing
           one
           Proposition
           from
           two
           others
           ,
           and
           by
           forming
           in
           a
           tedious
           way
           ,
           a
           long
           depending
           Chain
           of
           Consequences
           ,
           which
           are
           for
           that
           reason
           apt
           to
           create
           a
           distrust
           .
           Now
           as
           our
           inferiour
           kind
           of
           Knowledge
           is
           by
           no
           means
           a
           measure
           of
           that
           most
           perfect
           kind
           in
           the
           
             Divine
             Understanding
          
           ,
           so
           the
           Iustice
           ,
           Mercy
           and
           Goodness
           ,
           which
           are
           the
           Perfections
           of
           a
           
           Creature
           's
           ,
           may
           be
           of
           a
           lower
           kind
           ,
           and
           therefore
           an
           unfit
           measure
           of
           those
           Perfections
           in
           the
           
             Divine
             Will.
          
           'T
           is
           probable
           that
           for
           this
           reason
           the
           Disputants
           in
           this
           Poem
           ,
           for
           the
           clearing
           of
           
           God's
           Justice
           and
           Goodness
           ,
           betake
           themselves
           so
           often
           to
           the
           transcendent
           Greatness
           and
           Excellency
           of
           the
           
             Divine
             Nature
          
           ,
           whereby
           they
           plainly
           intimate
           that
           we
           are
           by
           no
           means
           
             competent
             Judges
          
           of
           his
           Actions
           .
        
         
           Another
           means
           to
           quiet
           Men's
           Minds
           concerning
           the
           Wisdom
           and
           Justice
           of
           
           God's
           Dispensations
           in
           those
           Instances
           that
           are
           the
           ●arshest
           and
           most
           unaccountable
           to
           us
           ,
           is
           to
           reflect
           on
           the
           narrow
           and
           broken
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           obscure
           Prospect
           which
           we
           have
           of
           the
           wide
           Sphere
           of
           his
           Providence
           .
           Did
           we
           clearly
           and
           fully
           understand
           how
           we
           are
           related
           to
           all
           the
           Parts
           of
           Mankind
           ,
           both
           to
           our
           Contemporaries
           ,
           and
           to
           those
           who
           have
           liv'd
           in
           the
           past
           ,
           or
           shall
           live
           in
           the
           
             future
             Ages
          
           of
           the
           World
           ;
           had
           we
           besides
           a
           clear
           Knowledge
           of
           our
           relation
           to
           other
           Reasonable
           ,
           but
           
             Superior
             Creatures
          
           ,
           I
           mean
           the
           Angels
           that
           inhabit
           the
           Immense
           and
           
             Glorious
             Regions
          
           above
           us
           ,
           and
           to
           those
           that
           ●ill
           the
           Stars
           and
           Planets
           ;
           (
           for
           't
           is
           improbable
           this
           Ball
           of
           Earth
           ,
           the
           Dregs
           and
           Sediment
           of
           the
           World
           should
           be
           so
           full
           of
           
           
             Reasonable
             Beings
          
           ,
           and
           the
           nobler
           Parts
           of
           the
           Creation
           should
           not
           be
           peopled
           with
           sutable
           Inhabitants
           )
           Had
           we
           a
           perfect
           and
           comprehensive
           View
           of
           the
           whole
           Scheme
           of
           the
           
             Divine
             Oeconomy
          
           in
           relation
           to
           all
           these
           Parts
           of
           his
           Government
           ,
           and
           how
           in
           his
           Administration
           in
           the
           different
           Parts
           of
           it
           he
           promoted
           the
           great
           and
           
             glorious
             Design
          
           of
           the
           whole
           ,
           we
           should
           have
           quite
           another
           Apprehension
           of
           
           God's
           Wisdom
           and
           Iustice.
           He
           that
           contemplates
           a
           Leg
           or
           an
           Arm
           with
           its
           relation
           to
           a
           
             Humane
             Body
          
           ,
           of
           which
           they
           are
           Parts
           ,
           has
           a
           very
           
             different
             Notion
          
           of
           them
           from
           him
           ,
           who
           considers
           them
           divided
           ,
           without
           any
           dependance
           on
           ,
           or
           connexion
           with
           the
           Whole
           .
           It
           is
           not
           in
           our
           Power
           to
           make
           any
           but
           partial
           and
           very
           lame
           Observations
           of
           
           God's
           Government
           of
           his
           Creatures
           ,
           and
           upon
           such
           imperfect
           Views
           ,
           't
           is
           no
           wonder
           if
           our
           Constructions
           and
           Conclusions
           are
           often
           erroneous
           ,
           and
           this
           ,
           it
           may
           be
           ,
           is
           another
           Reason
           why
           these
           
             Wise
             Men
          
           that
           manage
           the
           Debate
           about
           Providence
           in
           this
           Book
           ,
           lead
           us
           so
           often
           to
           contemplate
           the
           Works
           of
           
           God's
           Creation
           ,
           of
           which
           our selves
           are
           so
           small
           a
           Part.
           
        
         
           Besides
           this
           Principal
           and
           most
           Conspicuous
           Design
           ,
           other
           Vseful
           and
           Excellent
           Ends
           are
           pursu'd
           in
           this
           Poem
           :
           One
           of
           which
           is
           to
           enlarge
           and
           raise
           our
           Conceptions
           of
           the
           
             Divine
             Being
          
           ,
           to
           give
           us
           worthy
           and
           honourable
           Thoughts
           of
           his
           
             Infinite
             Perfections
          
           ,
           and
           form
           in
           our
           Minds
           a
           sutable
           Idea
           of
           his
           Greatness
           .
           The
           Representations
           of
           
             God's
             Transcendent
             Excellencies
          
           ,
           of
           
             his
             Independent
             ,
             Sovereign
          
           and
           
             Irresistible
             Power
          
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           of
           his
           
             Purity
             ,
             Wisdom
             ,
             Justice
          
           and
           Beneficence
           ,
           are
           in
           many
           Parts
           of
           this
           Book
           so
           noble
           ,
           so
           lively
           and
           admirable
           ,
           that
           they
           are
           very
           capable
           of
           leaving
           in
           our
           Thoughts
           very
           deep
           and
           lasting
           Impressions
           :
           And
           to
           give
           us
           right
           and
           just
           Conceptions
           
           of
           the
           
             Divine
             Nature
          
           ,
           on
           which
           our
           Notions
           of
           Religion
           ,
           the
           Conduct
           of
           our
           Lives
           ,
           our
           Honour
           and
           our
           Happiness
           depend
           ,
           is
           to
           do
           one
           of
           the
           greatest
           Services
           that
           can
           be
           done
           to
           Mankind
           .
        
         
           Another
           great
           End
           is
           to
           set
           before
           us
           for
           our
           Imitation
           an
           
             Illustrious
             Example
          
           of
           Piety
           ,
           and
           all
           kinds
           of
           Vertue
           ,
           in
           the
           most
           contrary
           Circumstances
           of
           Life
           that
           can
           be
           ,
           the
           most
           Flourishing
           ,
           and
           the
           most
           Miserable
           .
           And
           this
           is
           done
           in
           the
           Character
           of
           Job
           :
           While
           he
           possess'd
           a
           greater
           Substance
           than
           any
           Man
           in
           the
           Country
           where
           he
           liv'd
           ,
           and
           was
           blest
           with
           a
           compleat
           Collection
           of
           all
           those
           Enjoyments
           ,
           that
           are
           suppos'd
           to
           make
           a
           Man
           happy
           in
           this
           World
           ,
           he
           maintain'd
           his
           Religion
           and
           Integrity
           inviolable
           ,
           he
           was
           no
           less
           eminent
           for
           his
           Piety
           ,
           than
           for
           his
           Power
           and
           Abundance
           .
           He
           strictly
           preserv'd
           his
           Moderation
           and
           Humility
           ,
           his
           Temperance
           and
           Justice
           ,
           his
           Continence
           ,
           his
           Compassion
           ,
           and
           his
           great
           Love
           to
           Mankind
           ;
           as
           appears
           by
           the
           first
           ,
           and
           Thirty
           first
           Chapters
           of
           this
           Book
           .
           And
           when
           by
           a
           strange
           and
           surprizing
           Revolution
           the
           Scene
           was
           chang'd
           ,
           and
           this
           
             Righteous
             Person
          
           being
           depriv'd
           of
           his
           Children
           and
           Possessions
           ,
           and
           afflicted
           with
           grievous
           Pain
           and
           Sickness
           ,
           became
           the
           most
           wretched
           and
           
             unhappy
             Man
          
           that
           can
           be
           imagin'd
           ,
           he
           then
           by
           the
           Exercise
           of
           other
           rare
           Vertues
           ,
           maintains
           as
           great
           a
           Character
           in
           his
           Sufferings
           :
           He
           shows
           an
           admirable
           Instance
           of
           Patience
           and
           Resignation
           ,
           of
           Constancy
           and
           Perseverance
           ,
           holds
           fast
           his
           Religion
           ,
           and
           still
           expresses
           his
           unalterable
           Dependence
           on
           his
           God.
           In
           short
           ,
           his
           Mind
           was
           neither
           elated
           ,
           nor
           soften'd
           by
           the
           greatest
           Prosperity
           ,
           nor
           sowr'd
           or
           broken
           by
           the
           greatest
           Adversity
           .
           'T
           is
           true
           indeed
           that
           he
           vented
           several
           
             passionate
             ,
             rash
          
           ,
           and
           unbecoming
           Expressions
           ;
           
           but
           when
           we
           consider
           the
           Anguish
           of
           his
           Soul
           under
           such
           
             prodigious
             Sufferings
          
           ,
           the
           
             profane
             Provocations
          
           of
           his
           Wife
           ,
           the
           exasperating
           Reproaches
           of
           his
           mistaken
           Friends
           ,
           who
           after
           all
           his
           heavy
           Losses
           would
           have
           robb'd
           him
           too
           of
           his
           Integrity
           ,
           it
           will
           not
           be
           hard
           to
           excuse
           those
           Expressions
           :
           And
           no
           more
           can
           be
           concluded
           from
           them
           than
           this
           ,
           that
           tho'
           he
           was
           an
           Excellent
           ,
           he
           was
           not
           a
           Faultless
           
             Man.
             Moses
          
           ,
           who
           was
           honour'd
           with
           the
           Character
           of
           the
           
             meekest
             Man
          
           on
           Earth
           ,
           did
           on
           some
           provoking
           Occasions
           lose
           his
           Temper
           ;
           and
           Job
           may
           be
           allow'd
           to
           be
           the
           most
           
             patient
             Person
          
           in
           the
           World
           ,
           tho'
           in
           such
           Streights
           and
           Distress
           ,
           and
           urg'd
           with
           such
           Provocations
           ,
           some
           impatient
           Speeches
           might
           be
           extorted
           from
           him
           .
        
         
           I
           cannot
           but
           observe
           in
           this
           place
           ,
           that
           Job
           a
           Person
           of
           such
           Piety
           ,
           and
           so
           many
           rare
           and
           admirable
           Vertues
           ,
           had
           no
           Advantages
           from
           the
           
             Divine
             Revelations
          
           made
           to
           Moses
           and
           the
           
             Jewish
             Prophets
          
           .
           He
           was
           a
           Stranger
           to
           their
           Law
           and
           their
           System
           of
           Religion
           .
           The
           Light
           that
           directed
           him
           must
           be
           only
           that
           of
           Natural
           Reason
           and
           Conscience
           ,
           assisted
           by
           some
           Oral
           Traditions
           from
           Adam
           and
           Noah
           ,
           and
           by
           what
           God
           was
           pleas'd
           sometimes
           to
           communicate
           by
           Dreams
           and
           Visions
           in
           those
           darker
           Ages
           of
           the
           World.
           By
           this
           it
           appears
           ,
           that
           great
           Advances
           may
           be
           made
           in
           Vertue
           by
           a
           diligent
           attendance
           to
           the
           Dictates
           of
           our
           
             Natural
             Light.
          
           Would
           Men
           but
           improve
           their
           Reason
           ,
           reverence
           their
           Consciences
           ,
           and
           stand
           in
           awe
           of
           themselves
           ,
           they
           would
           become
           Worshippers
           of
           God
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           Sober
           and
           Righteous
           in
           an
           eminent
           degree
           .
           I
           refer
           this
           to
           the
           Consideration
           of
           those
           Gentlemen
           that
           do
           not
           acknowledge
           the
           
             Divine
             Authority
          
           ,
           either
           of
           the
           Mosaick
           ,
           or
           of
           the
           
             Christian
             Institution
          
           .
        
         
           Another
           ●nd
           ,
           and
           a
           very
           useful
           one
           too
           ,
           is
           by
           the
           
           Example
           of
           Job
           to
           con●ince
           the
           Reader
           of
           the
           Instability
           of
           a
           
             prosperous
             Condition
          
           ,
           and
           the
           
             great
             Vicissitude
          
           of
           
             Humane
             Affairs
          
           ,
           whereby
           his
           Mind
           may
           be
           dispos'd
           to
           
             Moderation
             ,
             Humility
             ,
             Temperance
             ,
             Compassion
          
           and
           Charity
           ,
           and
           preserved
           from
           that
           Pride
           and
           Contempt
           of
           others
           ,
           from
           that
           arrogant
           ,
           cruel
           and
           haughty
           Temper
           ,
           which
           
             great
             Riches
          
           and
           
             high
             Stations
          
           are
           too
           apt
           to
           produce
           ,
           especially
           in
           Men
           of
           a
           mean
           and
           
             low
             Spirit
          
           .
        
         
           I
           have
           not
           attempted
           a
           close
           Translation
           of
           this
           
             Sacred
             Book
          
           ,
           but
           a
           Paraphrase
           .
           For
           the
           Original
           being
           written
           in
           an
           
             Eastern
             Language
          
           ,
           their
           Manner
           and
           Turns
           of
           Expression
           are
           ,
           as
           before-mention'd
           ,
           so
           very
           different
           from
           ours
           ,
           that
           I
           thought
           a
           Paraphrase
           more
           proper
           and
           advantageous
           for
           a
           
             Modern
             European
             Language
          
           .
           But
           as
           I
           judg'd
           it
           would
           not
           bear
           a
           strict
           Translation
           ,
           so
           on
           the
           other
           hand
           I
           have
           endeavour'd
           ,
           that
           the
           Paraphrase
           should
           not
           be
           too
           loose
           and
           wide
           ,
           but
           that
           the
           Reader
           may
           all
           along
           carry
           with
           him
           the
           Sense
           of
           the
           Original
           .
           I
           have
           often
           diffus'd
           the
           Sense
           in
           other
           Expression
           .
           I
           have
           amplify'd
           the
           Text
           in
           many
           Places
           that
           appear'd
           more
           Poetical
           ,
           and
           from
           
             General
             Heads
          
           I
           have
           descended
           sometimes
           to
           Particulars
           ,
           the
           Enumeration
           of
           which
           ,
           I
           believ'd
           ,
           would
           illustrate
           and
           enliven
           the
           Original
           .
           I
           have
           avoided
           the
           immediate
           Repetition
           of
           the
           
             same
             Thought
          
           in
           Words
           little
           different
           from
           the
           first
           ,
           which
           is
           so
           very
           common
           in
           this
           Book
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           in
           that
           of
           the
           Psalms
           ,
           and
           other
           Poetical
           Places
           of
           the
           Scripture
           .
           For
           tho'
           this
           was
           no
           doubt
           accounted
           in
           the
           
             Eastern
             Countries
          
           at
           that
           time
           a
           great
           Beauty
           and
           Ornament
           to
           the
           Writing
           ,
           yet
           we
           have
           quite
           another
           Taste
           of
           Eloquence
           ,
           and
           therefore
           I
           have
           thought
           it
           best
           to
           accommodate
           that
           Matter
           to
           the
           
           Modern
           way
           of
           Writing
           .
           The
           Method
           of
           Writing
           in
           the
           
             Eastern
             Countries
          
           is
           what
           the
           Europeans
           think
           irregular
           ;
           the
           same
           Matter
           treated
           on
           before
           frequently
           recurs
           ,
           and
           the
           Connexion
           is
           sometimes
           broken
           ,
           and
           often
           obscure
           .
           The
           Transitions
           are
           sometimes
           neglected
           ,
           and
           a
           new
           Subject
           enter'd
           upon
           without
           the
           preparation
           for
           it
           which
           we
           expect
           should
           be
           made
           .
           We
           censure
           these
           Modes
           and
           Customs
           in
           Writings
           as
           defects
           ,
           and
           no
           doubt
           they
           would
           censure
           ours
           as
           much
           .
           I
           would
           not
           peremptorily
           condemn
           their
           Taste
           ,
           for
           the
           Opinion
           of
           Beauty
           and
           Ornament
           seems
           not
           to
           be
           capable
           of
           being
           determin'd
           by
           any
           fixt
           and
           unalterable
           
             Rule
             .
             Truth
          
           and
           
             good
             Sense
          
           are
           setled
           upon
           Eternal
           and
           unchangeable
           Grounds
           and
           Reasons
           ;
           but
           the
           manner
           of
           Expression
           ,
           and
           the
           method
           of
           conveying
           them
           ,
           and
           what
           concerns
           the
           Dress
           ,
           the
           Pomp
           and
           Ornament
           of
           them
           ,
           these
           are
           perhaps
           indifferent
           Ceremonies
           ,
           and
           every
           Nation
           may
           have
           Authority
           to
           establish
           which
           they
           please
           .
           'T
           is
           plain
           the
           Eastern
           World
           have
           not
           the
           same
           Apprehensions
           of
           Beauty
           and
           Ornament
           that
           we
           have
           :
           They
           believe
           there
           is
           a
           great
           Beauty
           in
           the
           neglect
           of
           what
           we
           call
           Order
           and
           Regularity
           ,
           as
           is
           evident
           in
           their
           Gardens
           and
           Buildings
           .
           What
           we
           censure
           as
           careless
           ,
           wild
           and
           extravagant
           ,
           strikes
           them
           with
           more
           Admiration
           ,
           and
           gives
           them
           greater
           Pleasure
           ,
           than
           all
           our
           elaborate
           and
           orderly
           Contrivances
           .
           All
           that
           can
           be
           said
           is
           ,
           that
           our
           Tasts
           are
           different
           ,
           and
           if
           they
           are
           barbarous
           to
           us
           ,
           we
           are
           so
           to
           them
           ,
           some
           of
           which
           especially
           the
           Chinese
           are
           ,
           or
           at
           least
           have
           been
           very
           Wise
           and
           Polite
           Nations
           .
        
         
           We
           in
           this
           part
           of
           the
           World
           are
           all
           so
           full
           of
           Homer
           and
           Virgil
           ,
           and
           are
           so
           bigotted
           to
           the
           Greek
           and
           
             Latin
             Sects
          
           ,
           that
           we
           are
           ready
           to
           account
           all
           
           
             Authors
             Heretical
          
           that
           are
           without
           the
           Pale
           of
           the
           Classicks
           .
           This
           seems
           to
           me
           to
           be
           a
           narrow
           
             Sectarian
             Spirit
          
           ,
           that
           prompts
           Men
           to
           impose
           their
           Fancies
           and
           Opinions
           on
           all
           the
           World
           besides
           .
           Whatever
           high
           Opinion
           we
           have
           of
           our
           own
           Attainments
           ,
           we
           should
           have
           that
           Temper
           and
           Moderation
           ,
           that
           might
           preserve
           a
           due
           regard
           for
           the
           Wisdom
           and
           Judgment
           of
           other
           Nations
           ;
           and
           not
           with
           the
           
             haughty
             Air
          
           of
           a
           
             Supercilious
             Critick
          
           ,
           censure
           and
           condemn
           every
           thing
           that
           deviates
           from
           the
           Examples
           of
           the
           Greek
           and
           
             Latin
             Authors
          
           .
        
         
           I
           have
           therefore
           in
           this
           Paraphrase
           proceeded
           all
           along
           from
           Chapter
           to
           Chapter
           ,
           and
           Verse
           to
           Verse
           ,
           in
           the
           Order
           they
           are
           set
           down
           ,
           excepting
           some
           very
           few
           inconsiderable
           Transpositions
           :
           So
           that
           I
           have
           by
           no
           means
           alter'd
           the
           Method
           and
           Order
           of
           the
           Narration
           ,
           or
           any
           way
           chang'd
           the
           Model
           .
           And
           't
           will
           be
           hard
           to
           give
           a
           Reason
           why
           the
           Author
           of
           this
           Book
           has
           not
           as
           great
           a
           Right
           to
           be
           made
           the
           Standard
           whereby
           to
           try
           Homer
           and
           Virgil
           ,
           as
           those
           
             two
             Authors
          
           have
           to
           bring
           this
           to
           their
           Tribunal
           .
           If
           the
           Knowledge
           of
           the
           
             Hebrew
             Language
          
           had
           been
           look'd
           on
           in
           Europe
           to
           have
           been
           as
           necessary
           as
           the
           Greek
           and
           Latin
           ;
           had
           it
           been
           as
           great
           an
           Honour
           and
           Accomplishment
           for
           a
           Man
           to
           understand
           the
           first
           as
           the
           last
           ;
           and
           had
           there
           been
           as
           great
           a
           variety
           of
           Authors
           of
           all
           sorts
           of
           Learning
           left
           in
           the
           Language
           ,
           that
           there
           might
           have
           been
           an
           equal
           Inducement
           to
           have
           study'd
           and
           taught
           it
           universally
           in
           the
           Schools
           ,
           I
           say
           had
           this
           been
           ,
           the
           Grammarians
           and
           Criticks
           might
           perhaps
           have
           ●ixt
           on
           this
           as
           the
           best
           Model
           of
           
             Poetical
             Writings
          
           ,
           and
           have
           drawn
           their
           Rules
           and
           Remarks
           from
           the
           Example
           they
           found
           here
           :
           For
           't
           is
           plain
           all
           their
           Precepts
           are
           founded
           on
           Examples
           ,
           
           and
           on
           those
           Examples
           with
           which
           they
           were
           most
           conversant
           ,
           and
           in
           such
           Languages
           as
           were
           most
           in
           vogue
           ,
           and
           which
           most
           of
           them
           were
           oblig'd
           to
           profess
           and
           teach
           .
        
         
           I
           have
           indeed
           supply'd
           in
           some
           Places
           the
           Transitions
           and
           other
           Connexions
           ,
           which
           according
           to
           their
           manner
           of
           Writing
           are
           omitted
           in
           the
           Original
           ,
           that
           the
           Reader
           of
           the
           Paraphrase
           ,
           who
           is
           unaccustomed
           to
           that
           way
           ,
           may
           not
           be
           embarrass'd
           or
           interrupted
           .
           There
           are
           many
           hard
           and
           
             obscure
             Places
          
           ,
           about
           the
           meaning
           of
           which
           I
           have
           consulted
           the
           ablest
           and
           most
           
             famous
             Writers
          
           ,
           and
           have
           taken
           that
           Sense
           which
           I
           look'd
           on
           as
           most
           natural
           ,
           and
           supported
           by
           the
           best
           Reasons
           :
           And
           in
           this
           I
           have
           chiefly
           been
           obliged
           to
           the
           Excellent
           Paraphrase
           of
           the
           
             Learned
             Bishop
          
           of
           Ely
           ,
           and
           the
           Collection
           of
           the
           Critici
           .
        
         
           I
           have
           added
           a
           Paraphrase
           upon
           several
           other
           Poetical
           Parts
           of
           the
           Bible
           ;
           which
           ,
           in
           my
           Opinion
           ,
           are
           nobler
           Examples
           of
           the
           true
           
             sublime
             Stile
          
           ,
           than
           any
           can
           be
           sound
           in
           the
           
             Pagan
             Writers
          
           .
           The
           Images
           are
           so
           strong
           ,
           the
           Thoughts
           so
           great
           ,
           the
           Expressions
           so
           divine
           ,
           and
           the
           Figures
           so
           admirable
           ,
           bold
           and
           moving
           ,
           that
           the
           wonderful
           manner
           of
           these
           Writers
           is
           quite
           inimitable
           .
           One
           thing
           I
           must
           advertise
           the
           Reader
           of
           ,
           that
           in
           the
           Prophets
           't
           is
           common
           with
           them
           ,
           that
           they
           may
           represent
           the
           Certainty
           of
           their
           Predictions
           with
           the
           greater
           Advantage
           ,
           to
           use
           the
           past
           for
           the
           
             future
             Tense
          
           ,
           that
           is
           ,
           to
           speak
           of
           Things
           to
           come
           ,
           as
           already
           done
           ;
           so
           that
           their
           Prophecies
           often
           seem
           
             Historical
             Narrations
          
           of
           Matters
           already
           transacted
           :
           Therefore
           the
           Reader
           is
           not
           to
           be
           surpriz'd
           ,
           when
           in
           the
           second
           Song
           of
           Moses
           he
           finds
           that
           
             great
             Prophet
          
           speaking
           of
           what
           befel
           the
           Children
           of
           Israel
           in
           Canaan
           ,
           as
           things
           past
           in
           his
           own
           Time
           ,
           which
           did
           
           not
           happen
           till
           long
           after
           his
           Death
           .
           I
           am
           of
           Mr.
           
           Cowley's
           Judgment
           ,
           who
           in
           his
           Preface
           declares
           that
           there
           are
           no
           more
           noble
           Subjects
           of
           Poetry
           to
           be
           found
           than
           those
           the
           Scriptures
           furnish
           us
           withal
           ,
           and
           therefore
           I
           have
           made
           this
           Attempt
           .
           'T
           is
           true
           ,
           Mr.
           Sandys
           ,
           a
           Gentleman
           of
           
             great
             Merit
          
           ,
           has
           done
           this
           before
           ;
           but
           that
           I
           did
           not
           know
           till
           after
           I
           had
           begun
           this
           Work
           ,
           and
           made
           some
           Progress
           in
           it
           ;
           and
           when
           I
           had
           perus'd
           part
           of
           his
           Paraphrase
           ,
           I
           thought
           I
           might
           be
           able
           to
           supply
           some
           Defects
           ,
           especially
           in
           relation
           to
           Perspicuity
           and
           Coherence
           .
        
         
           As
           to
           the
           Leviathan
           and
           Behemoth
           ,
           mention'd
           in
           the
           latter
           Part
           of
           this
           Book
           ,
           I
           have
           appropriated
           the
           Character
           of
           the
           first
           to
           the
           Crocodile
           ,
           and
           of
           the
           last
           to
           the
           Elephant
           .
           I
           believe
           the
           Marks
           enumerated
           by
           the
           
             Learned
             Bochart
          
           ,
           do
           justly
           determine
           the
           Description
           of
           the
           Leviathan
           to
           the
           Crocodile
           ;
           but
           I
           can't
           see
           any
           necessity
           from
           what
           he
           urges
           ,
           to
           conclude
           Behemoth
           to
           be
           the
           Hippopotamus
           ,
           or
           River-Horse
           .
           The
           Character
           given
           in
           Job
           is
           ,
           in
           my
           Opinion
           ,
           more
           sutable
           to
           the
           Elephant
           .
           The
           Reasons
           alledg'd
           on
           both
           sides
           may
           be
           seen
           in
           the
           Critici
           before-cited
           ;
           and
           whether
           the
           one
           or
           the
           other
           be
           true
           ,
           is
           not
           a
           Matter
           of
           that
           Importance
           as
           should
           oblige
           me
           to
           transcribe
           the
           Arguments
           in
           this
           Place
           .
           Perswaded
           by
           the
           Reasons
           of
           some
           Learned
           Commentators
           ,
           I
           have
           taken
           the
           Unicorn
           for
           the
           Uri
           or
           
             wild
             Bull
          
           ,
           and
           not
           the
           Oryx
           ,
           or
           
             wild
             Goat
          
           ,
           according
           to
           Boshart
           ,
           or
           the
           Rhinoceros
           ,
           according
           to
           others
           .
           I
           impose
           not
           my
           Opinion
           on
           others
           :
           These
           are
           Matters
           of
           
             small
             Moment
          
           ,
           and
           every
           Man
           is
           at
           liberty
           to
           think
           as
           he
           pleases
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
           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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               ●lowing
               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
               So●s
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               Iob
               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
               ,
            
             
               
               Iob'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
               
               Iob'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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               .
               Iob
               ,
               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
               Iob
               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
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               ,
               't
               is
               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
               ,
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               Iob
               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
               't
               is
               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
               sades
               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
               Iob
               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
               't
               was
               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
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               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
               't
               is
               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
               ,
            
             
               Wh●●●
               Habitation
               is
               a
               House
               of
               Clay
               .
            
             
               〈◊〉
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               ,
               Iob
               ,
               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
               ●hastly
               Ruin
               did
               the
               Ground
               deform
               .
            
             
               His
               ●imbs
               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
               risle
               ,
               and
               lay
               wast
               their
               Lands
               .
            
          
           
             
               What
               means
               these
               Cries
               ?
               why
               this
               Impatience
               shown
               ?
            
             
               Is
               Trouble
               rare
               ?
               are
               Woes
               uncommon
               grown
               ?
            
             
               'T
               is
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               't
               is
               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
               't
               is
               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
               Iob
               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
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               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
               Dear
               ,
               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
               ●lip●az
               ,
               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
               ●ry'd
            
             
               Finds
               out
               the
               Brook
               ,
               but
               sees
               the
               Channel
               dry'd
               ,
            
             
               Where
               he
               expected
               cooling
               Streams
               should
               flow
               ,
            
             
               Sin●●
               't
               was
               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
               .
            
             
               Con●ounded
               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
               Iob
               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
               de●end
               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
               dothy
               Words
               ,
               like
               Winds
               ,
               Tempestuous
               grow
               ?
            
             
               Does
               God
               Deceit
               to
               Sacred
               Truth
               prefer
               ?
            
             
               Rather
               than
               Iob
               ,
               must
               God
               be
               thought
               to
               err
               ?
            
             
               I●
               thy
               Rebellious
               Children
               did
               provoke
            
             
               Th'
               Allmighty's
               Wrath
               ,
               and
               felt
               his
               Vengeful
               stroke
               ,
            
             
               I●
               thou
               his
               Perfect
               Justice
               would'st
               adore
               ,
            
             
               I●
               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
               ●low
               .
            
             
               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
               ,
               Iob
               ,
               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
               Iob.
               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
               Wife
               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
               Areturus
               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
               't
               is
               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
               Iob
               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
               thi●
               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
               Iob
               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
               ,
            
             
               It
               s
               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
               unf●t
            
             
               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
               ,
               't
               is
               God
               denounces
               War
               ?
            
          
        
         
           
             CHAP.
             XII
             .
          
           
             
               Then
               Iob
               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
               sinn'd
               Inhabitants
               demand
            
             
               How
               't
               is
               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
               ,
               't
               is
               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
               ●ire
               ,
            
             
               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
               su●●ice
               ,
               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
               draws
               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
               n●'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
               ;
            
             
               'T
               is
               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
               〈◊〉
               ●xpos'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
               Iob
               admit
               ?
            
             
             
               Does
               Wisdom
               with
               her
               Fav'rite
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
               Iob
               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
               ,
               't
               is
               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
               Iob
               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'
               ●●●acious
               Wretch
               would
               against
               Heav'n
               engage
               .
            
             
               〈…〉
               Almighty's
               Host
               he
               takes
               the
               Field
               ,
            
             
               And
               runs
               upon
               his
               Spear
               and
               dreadful
               Shield
               .
            
             
               He
               does
               de●●ance
               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
               conside
               ,
            
             
               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
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               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
               
               Iob's
               Affliction
               on
               their
               heads
               may
               light
               .
            
             
               My
               Neighbours
               cry
               ,
               when
               they
               my
               Suff'rings
               see
               ,
            
             
               Is
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               't
               is
               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
               Bil●ad
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               in
               his
               heavy
               Doom
               .
            
             
               Death
               and
               Destruction
               o're
               his
               head
               impend
               ;
            
             
               All
               his
               soft
               Pleasures
               shall
               in
               Torment
               end
               .
            
             
               The
               Pillars
               which
               his
               Cofidence
               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
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               Iob
               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
               Suffrings
               ,
               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
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               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
               't
               is
               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
               't
               is
               impious
               ,
               so
               't
               is
               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'
               't
               is
               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
               't
               is
               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
               't
               is
               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
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               plain
               ,
               they
               often
               flourish
               ,
               tho'
               't
               is
               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
               ●ound
               in
               every
               part
               ,
            
             
               That
               't
               will
               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
               ●its
               ,
            
             
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               :
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Caver●s
               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
               :
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             CH.
             XXV
             .
          
           
             
               Then
               Bildad
               answer'd
               ,
               Why
               does
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               ●iery
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               lo●k
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               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'
               un●athom'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
               ●earches
               all
               the
               Seats
               beneath
               ,
            
             
               Gloomy
               and
               lonesome
               ,
               as
               the
               Shades
               of
               Death
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               He
               oft
               reflected
               on
               the
               sacred
               Guest
               ,
            
             
               Which
               had
               her
               sixt
               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
               Iob
               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
            
             
             
               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
               fit
               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
               ●ate
               ,
            
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Rai●
               ,
            
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               ,
               so
               Poor
               ,
               and
               so
               Opprest
               .
            
             
               What
               Contumelious
               Insults
               have
               I
               born
            
             
               From
               these
               vile
               Men
               ,
               what
               unexampled
               Scorn
               ?
            
             
               With
               bitter
               Scoffs
               they
               suff'ring
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               to
               bring
               disgrace
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               afflict
               me
               does
               his
               Power
               engage
               ,
            
             
               They
               too
               unbridle
               all
               their
               savage
               Rage
               .
            
             
               Young
               Striplings
               ,
               poor
               afflicted
               Iob
               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.
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               !
               )
               fore
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               weight
               ,
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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.
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               House
               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
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               attend
               ,
            
             
             
               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
               Elibu
               ,
               in
               Blood
               ally'd
            
             
               To
               faithful
               Abram
               by
               the
               Brother's
               side
               .
            
             
               Against
               good
               Iob
               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
               
               Iob'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
               
               Iob'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.
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               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
               
               Iob'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
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               F●atterer's
               ways
               ,
            
             
               I
               cannot
               sooth
               you
               with
               excessive
               Praise
               .
            
             
               I
               cannot
               ●awn
               ,
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
               "
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               .
            
          
           
             
               O●t
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               To
               raise
               him
               from
               the
               Grave
               to
               live
               in
               Peace
               ,
            
             
               And
               see
               his
               Riches
               and
               his
               Friends
               increase
               .
            
          
           
             
               Mark
               well
               ,
               O
               Iob
               ,
               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
               't
               is
               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
               ,
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               For
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               arralgns
               ,
            
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               ,
               Iob
               ,
               didst
               thou
               in
               such
               an
               humble
               way
               ,
            
             
               E'er
               due
               Submission
               to
               th'
               Almighty
               pay
               ?
            
             
             
               If
               thou
               this
               wholesome
               Counsel
               dost
               despise
               ,
            
             
               Be
               sure
               thy
               stubborn
               Folly
               he
               'll
               chastise
               .
            
             
               Iob
               may
               the
               method
               I
               propose
               refuse
               ,
            
             
               Which
               I
               ,
               were
               I
               in
               his
               Distress
               ,
               would
               chuse
               .
            
             
               Tell
               therefore
               ,
               Iob
               ,
               what
               thy
               Opinions
               are
               ,
            
             
               Or
               let
               Judicious
               Men
               their
               Sense
               declare
               ,
            
             
               For
               I
               such
               Judges
               ask
               in
               this
               Affair
               .
            
             
               To
               me
               ,
               as
               impious
               
               Iob'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
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               does
               God
               in
               Righteousness
               exceed
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               therfore
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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'
               't
               is
               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
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               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
               ,
               't
               is
               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
               .
            
             
             
               To
               Pity
               he
               's
               inclin'd
               ,
               but
               will
               not
               save
            
             
               Th'
               Impenitent
               ,
               tho'
               they
               his
               Pity
               crave
               .
            
             
               Those
               who
               his
               Worship
               and
               his
               Laws
               tdespise
               ,
            
             
               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
               't
               is
               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
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               ,
            
             
               Le●t
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
            
             
             
               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
               ,
            
             
               Iob
               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
               ,
               lest
               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
               :
            
             
             
               While
               thou
               didst
               rather
               Providence
               accuse
               ,
            
             
               Then
               patiently
               to
               bear
               Affliction
               ,
               chuse
               .
            
          
           
             
               Consider
               ,
               Iob
               ,
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               ;
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               ,
               Attention
               give
               ,
               no
               more
               object
               ,
            
             
               To
               God
               ,
               no
               more
               on
               Providence
               reflect
               .
            
             
               Rather
               his
               Counsels
               and
               his
               Rule
               adore
               ,
            
             
               Admire
               his
               Works
               ,
               and
               Reverence
               his
               Power
               .
            
             
               Canst
               thou
               declare
               what
               Orders
               from
               above
            
             
               Will
               come
               ,
               by
               which
               these
               Meteors
               are
               to
               move
               ?
            
             
             
               Canst
               thou
               by
               all
               thy
               Skill
               so
               much
               as
               know
               ,
            
             
               When
               in
               the
               Clouds
               he
               'll
               draw
               his
               beauteous
               Bow
               ?
            
             
               Canst
               thou
               ,
               presumptuous
               Man
               ,
               the
               way
               declare
               ,
            
             
               How
               pondrous
               Clouds
               hang
               ballanc'd
               in
               the
               Air
               ?
            
             
               Canst
               thou
               expose
               such
               Secrets
               to
               the
               Light
               ,
            
             
               The
               wondrous
               Works
               of
               Wisdom
               Infinite
               ?
            
             
               Whence
               come
               the
               soultry
               Gleams
               and
               scorching
               Heat
               ,
            
             
               When
               we
               beneath
               our
               lightest
               Garments
               sweat
               ?
            
             
               Why
               should
               the
               Southern
               Breezes
               calm
               the
               Floods
               ,
            
             
               Make
               soft
               the
               Air
               ,
               and
               dress
               in
               Green
               the
               Woods
               ?
            
             
               How
               should
               they
               breath
               thro'
               all
               the
               heaving
               Soil
            
             
               Prolific
               Warmth
               ,
               to
               bless
               the
               Labourer's
               toil
               ,
            
             
               When
               from
               the
               South
               such
               furious
               Whirlwinds
               rise
               ,
            
             
               And
               stormy
               Clouds
               pollute
               and
               vex
               the
               Skys
               .
            
             
               But
               now
               ,
               O
               Iob
               ,
               proceed
               ,
               and
               raise
               thy
               thought
            
             
               To
               Objects
               nobler
               ,
               higher
               ,
               more
               remote
               .
            
             
               Wert
               thou
               in
               Council
               with
               th'
               Almighty
               joyn'd
               ,
            
             
               When
               he
               the
               Model
               of
               the
               Heav'n's
               design'd
               ?
            
             
               To
               fashion
               them
               didst
               thou
               Assistance
               give
               ?
            
             
               What
               Ornament
               ,
               what
               Strength
               didst
               thou
               contrive
               ?
            
             
               When
               he
               extended
               o'er
               the
               empty
               Space
            
             
               His
               high
               Pavilion
               ,
               where
               was
               then
               thy
               Place
               ?
            
             
               Didst
               thou
               one
               end
               of
               the
               wide
               Curtain
               hold
               ,
            
             
               And
               help
               the
               Bales
               of
               Ether
               to
               unfold
               ;
            
             
               Tell
               which
               Cerulean
               Pile
               was
               by
               thy
               hands
               unroll'd
               ?
            
             
               Tho'
               this
               transparent
               ,
               Starry
               Firmament
            
             
               Is
               so
               sublime
               ,
               and
               of
               such
               vast
               Extent
               ,
            
             
               That
               it
               confounds
               our
               weak
               and
               feeble
               Sight
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               is
               it
               firm
               ,
               as
               well
               as
               clear
               and
               bright
               .
            
             
             
               If
               thou
               hast
               Skill
               ,
               instruct
               us
               what
               to
               say
            
             
               Of
               Power
               Divine
               ,
               and
               we
               'll
               Attention
               pay
               .
            
             
               We
               own
               ,
               when
               e'er
               our
               Minds
               attempt
               to
               climb
            
             
               To
               Objects
               so
               unequal
               ,
               so
               sublime
               ;
            
             
               Our
               baffled
               Thoughts
               can
               no
               Discovery
               boast
               ,
            
             
               But
               are
               Confounded
               ,
               and
               in
               Wonder
               lost
               .
            
             
               What
               words
               that
               suit
               the
               Case
               can
               I
               express
               ?
            
             
               Or
               what
               to
               God
               ,
               worthy
               of
               God
               ,
               address
               ?
            
             
               He
               that
               of
               God
               would
               a
               Description
               give
               ,
            
             
               Will
               with
               a
               Task
               insuperable
               strive
               .
            
             
               Let
               him
               his
               Reason
               stretch
               ,
               he
               'll
               quickly
               find
               ,
            
             
               The
               mighty
               Object
               will
               distract
               his
               Mind
               .
            
             
               The
               steddiest
               Head
               will
               turn
               at
               such
               a
               height
               ,
            
             
               Who
               can
               undazled
               ,
               gaze
               at
               uncreated
               Light
               ?
            
             
               The
               hardy
               Men
               that
               make
               the
               bold
               Essay
               ,
            
             
               Immensity
               of
               Being
               to
               survey
               ,
            
             
               Are
               lost
               in
               that
               unsearchable
               Abyss
               ,
            
             
               In
               Boundless
               Power
               ,
               and
               vast
               ,
               unmeasur'd
               Bliss
               .
            
             
               Giddy
               with
               Splendour
               ,
               and
               excess
               of
               Day
               ,
            
             
               They
               in
               a
               Maze
               of
               Glory
               miss
               their
               way
               .
            
             
               For
               Men
               alass
               ,
               their
               Eyes
               so
               feeble
               are
               ,
            
             
               Cannot
               the
               Sun's
               Meridian
               Lustre
               bear
               ,
            
             
               When
               Northern
               Winds
               have
               swept
               and
               clear'd
               the
               Air.
            
             
               Then
               sure
               with
               Terror
               seiz'd
               ,
               they
               should
               decline
            
             
               The
               awful
               Sight
               of
               Majesty
               Divine
               .
            
             
               That
               Majesty
               from
               which
               we
               should
               retire
               ,
            
             
               And
               at
               a
               distance
               humbly
               should
               admire
               .
            
             
               And
               not
               too
               far
               into
               its
               Nature
               pry
               ,
            
             
               Or
               gaze
               upon
               it
               with
               a
               curious
               Eye
               .
            
             
             
               For
               after
               all
               th'
               Attempts
               we
               make
               ,
               we
               find
            
             
               Our
               Reason
               cannot
               grasp
               th'
               Eternal
               Mind
               .
            
             
               So
               Boundless
               ,
               so
               Transcendent
               is
               his
               Might
               ,
            
             
               So
               Wise
               his
               Conduct
               ,
               his
               Decrees
               so
               right
               ,
            
             
               That
               no
               Man
               should
               debate
               th'
               Almighty's
               Deeds
               ,
            
             
               Or
               ask
               a
               Reason
               why
               he
               thus
               proceeds
               .
            
             
               If
               any
               do
               ,
               God
               who
               does
               all
               surmount
            
             
               As
               Soveraign
               Lord
               ,
               need
               give
               them
               no
               account
               .
            
             
               And
               this
               should
               humble
               Admiration
               draw
            
             
               From
               mortal
               Man
               ,
               and
               make
               him
               stand
               in
               Awe
               .
            
             
               This
               should
               their
               peevish
               Arguments
               confute
               ,
            
             
               And
               teach
               them
               to
               Adore
               ,
               and
               not
               dispute
               .
            
             
               For
               God
               regards
               the
               Meek
               ,
               but
               does
               despise
            
             
               The
               proud
               conceited
               Man
               ,
               and
               in
               his
               Eyes
            
             
               All
               Men
               are
               Fools
               ,
               who
               in
               their
               own
               are
               Wise.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             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
               Iob
               ,
               who
               by
               thy
               gross
               mistake
               ,
            
             
               Dost
               false
               Constructions
               of
               my
               Actions
               make
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               
               Iob'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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               fable
               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.
            
             
             
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
                 Iob
              
               ,
               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.
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               ,
               giv'n
               to
               the
               gen'rous
               Horse
               ,
            
             
               His
               Confidence
               ,
               his
               Spirit
               and
               his
               Force
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               the
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               For
               tress
               ,
               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
               ,
               Iob
               (
               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
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               Iob
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               ;
            
             
             
               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
               he
               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
               Iordan
               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
               ?
            
             
             
               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
               Hope
               's
               the
               bravest
               Warriours
               entertain
               ,
            
             
               Of
               Conq'ring
               him
               ,
               presumptuous
               are
               and
               vain
               .
            
             
               Would
               not
               the
               boldest
               Mortal
               ,
               in
               despight
            
             
               Of
               all
               his
               Courage
               ,
               at
               the
               dreadful
               sight
            
             
               Of
               such
               a
               Creature
               ,
               pale
               with
               terror
               stand
               ;
            
             
               And
               drop
               his
               Weapons
               from
               his
               trembling
               hand
               ?
            
             
               Is
               there
               a
               Man
               so
               fierce
               and
               fearless
               found
               ,
            
             
               That
               dares
               tho'
               clad
               in
               Steel
               ,
               approach
               the
               ground
            
             
               Where
               midst
               the
               Reeds
               the
               Monster
               lies
               at
               ease
               ,
            
             
               And
               will
               adventure
               to
               disturb
               his
               Peace
               ?
            
             
               Is
               there
               a
               Man
               ,
               that
               does
               not
               Courage
               lack
               ,
            
             
               To
               touch
               the
               scaly
               Coat
               that
               cloaths
               his
               Back
               ?
            
             
               The
               most
               intrepid
               Chief
               ,
               that
               dares
               advance
            
             
               Against
               the
               brandish'd
               Sword
               ,
               and
               threat'ning
               Lance
               ,
            
             
             
               With
               Consternation
               seiz'd
               ,
               in
               haste
               withdraws
               ,
            
             
               Far
               from
               the
               reach
               of
               his
               expanded
               Jaws
               .
            
             
               Then
               canst
               thou
               Iob
               ,
               of
               me
               be
               not
               afraid
               ,
            
             
               Who
               the
               vast
               Beast
               ,
               and
               all
               his
               Terrors
               made
               ?
            
             
               Whoe'er
               on
               me
               did
               Obligations
               lay
               ,
            
             
               Which
               by
               my
               favours
               I
               did
               ne'er
               repay
               ?
            
             
               To
               clear
               the
               Debt
               can't
               I
               Rewards
               bestow
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               of
               the
               Worlds
               above
               ,
               and
               this
               below
               ?
            
          
           
             
               But
               let
               us
               more
               distinctly
               yet
               explore
            
             
               The
               Frame
               ,
               the
               comely
               Parts
               and
               wondrous
               pow'r
            
             
               Of
               my
               stupendous
               Creature
               ,
               nam'd
               before
               .
            
             
               He
               that
               his
               Mouth
               dares
               open
               ,
               would
               disclose
            
             
               The
               bloody
               Throne
               of
               Death
               ,
               long
               murth'ring
               Rows
            
             
               Of
               Spearlike
               Teeth
               ,
               which
               fixt
               on
               either
               hand
               ,
            
             
               Along
               his
               Jaws
               in
               dreadful
               order
               stand
               .
            
             
               Impenetrable
               Scales
               ,
               like
               Plates
               of
               Brass
               ;
            
             
               In
               beauteous
               Figures
               set
               ,
               his
               Sides
               encase
               .
            
             
               Clad
               in
               this
               Coat
               of
               Mail
               ,
               his
               Martial
               Pride
               ,
            
             
               He
               does
               the
               Spear
               and
               glitt'ring
               Dart
               deride
               .
            
             
               They
               're
               all
               so
               firmly
               fixt
               ,
               so
               closely
               joyn'd
               ,
            
             
               That
               Air
               it self
               can
               no
               admission
               find
               .
            
             
               In
               strict
               embraces
               they
               together
               grow
               ,
            
             
               Embraces
               that
               can
               ne'er
               Division
               know
               .
            
             
               Whene'er
               he
               Sneezes
               ,
               from
               his
               Nostrils
               flies
            
             
               A
               flash
               ,
               like
               Lightning
               darting
               thro'
               the
               Skys
               .
            
             
               The
               lustre
               of
               his
               Eyes
               the
               Meads
               adorn
               ,
            
             
               Bright
               as
               the
               Saffron
               Eye-lids
               of
               the
               Morn
               .
            
             
               His
               reeking
               Breath
               breaks
               from
               his
               hollow
               Throat
               ,
            
             
               As
               from
               a
               Forge
               or
               Caldron
               ,
               boiling
               hot
               .
            
             
             
               If
               hardy
               Swains
               his
               fury
               dare
               provoke
               ,
            
             
               His
               raging
               Nostrils
               belch
               out
               Clouds
               of
               Smoke
               .
            
             
               From
               his
               wide
               Mouth
               ,
               mingled
               with
               choaking
               steams
               ,
            
             
               Impetuous
               Sparks
               fly
               out
               ,
               and
               fiery
               Streams
               .
            
             
               His
               Neck
               ,
               tho'
               not
               of
               formidable
               length
               ,
            
             
               Is
               the
               Imperial
               Throne
               and
               Seat
               of
               Strength
               .
            
             
               Triumphant
               Terror
               ,
               with
               its
               dreadful
               Reer
               ,
            
             
               Amazement
               ,
               Sorrow
               ,
               Woe
               and
               shiv'ring
               Fear
               ,
            
             
               Marching
               before
               ,
               his
               hideous
               Pomp
               compose
               ,
            
             
               And
               seize
               on
               all
               around
               him
               where
               he
               goes
               .
            
             
               The
               solid
               Strings
               of
               his
               hard
               Flesh
               ,
               are
               wound
            
             
               So
               fast
               together
               ,
               and
               so
               firmly
               bound
               ,
            
             
               That
               Men
               can
               scarce
               by
               Violence
               or
               Art
               ,
            
             
               Th'
               adhering
               Muscles
               ,
               and
               strong
               Sinews
               part
               .
            
             
               His
               unrelenting
               Heart
               as
               Marble
               hard
               ,
            
             
               Did
               ne'er
               Compassion's
               tender
               Moan
               regard
               .
            
             
               Mercy
               's
               soft
               Fire
               did
               never
               melt
               his
               Breast
               ,
            
             
               Which
               never
               Fear
               ,
               or
               Pity
               yet
               exprest
               .
            
             
               Try
               all
               thy
               Arts
               ,
               thy
               Prayers
               and
               Tears
               repeat
               ,
            
             
               Thou't
               find
               thou
               only
               dost
               a
               Rock
               entreat
               ,
            
             
               All
               thy
               recoiling
               Strokes
               will
               but
               an
               Anvil
               beat
               .
            
             
               But
               if
               amidst
               the
               Waves
               he
               reers
               his
               Head
               ,
            
             
               The
               most
               undaunted
               Hearts
               his
               Presence
               dread
               .
            
             
               Such
               is
               their
               Consternation
               ,
               such
               their
               Fright
               ,
            
             
               They
               know
               not
               whither
               to
               direct
               their
               Flight
               ;
            
             
               They
               can't
               escape
               ,
               nor
               yet
               abide
               his
               sight
               .
            
             
               Let
               them
               with
               Sword
               in
               hand
               the
               Beast
               attack
               ,
            
             
               The
               Steel
               will
               break
               in
               pieces
               on
               his
               Back
               .
            
             
             
               In
               vain
               the
               Spear
               and
               Dart
               th'
               Assailant
               weilds
               ,
            
             
               His
               Scales
               are
               all
               impenetrable
               Shields
               ;
            
             
               His
               harden'd
               Skin
               ne'er
               to
               the
               Jav'lin
               yields
               .
            
             
               Weapons
               of
               Iron
               made
               of
               every
               kind
               ,
            
             
               Which
               the
               destructive
               Wit
               of
               Man
               can
               find
               ;
            
             
               He
               values
               as
               the
               Bullrush
               by
               the
               Flood
               ,
            
             
               And
               those
               of
               Brass
               ,
               as
               Spears
               of
               rotten
               Wood.
            
             
               Thick
               Showers
               of
               Arrows
               singing
               thro'
               the
               Sky
               ,
            
             
               His
               Courage
               cannot
               shake
               ,
               and
               make
               him
               fly
               .
            
             
               He
               counts
               vast
               Stones
               ,
               with
               Skill
               and
               Fury
               slung
               ,
            
             
               And
               Darts
               as
               Stubble
               ,
               by
               th'
               Invader
               flung
               .
            
             
               Against
               him
               when
               the
               clam'rous
               Troops
               advance
               ,
            
             
               He
               smiles
               at
               Spears
               ,
               and
               mocks
               the
               threatning
               Lance.
            
             
               The
               sharpest
               Weapons
               from
               his
               Back
               recoil
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               their
               Shivers
               spred
               the
               miry
               Soil
               .
            
             
               When
               thro'
               the
               Deep
               he
               rolls
               from
               side
               to
               side
               ,
            
             
               And
               tumbles
               in
               the
               Bottom
               of
               the
               Tyde
               ;
            
             
               He
               shakes
               the
               Banks
               ,
               and
               troubles
               all
               the
               Waves
               ,
            
             
               Like
               Tempests
               loos'd
               from
               Subterranean
               Caves
               .
            
             
               His
               motion
               works
               ,
               and
               beats
               the
               Oazy
               Mud
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               its
               Slime
               incorporates
               the
               Flood
               ;
            
             
               That
               all
               th'
               encumber'd
               ,
               thick
               ,
               fermenting
               Stream
               ,
            
             
               Does
               one
               vast
               Pot
               of
               boiling
               Oyntment
               seem
               .
            
             
               Whene'er
               he
               Swims
               ,
               he
               leaves
               along
               the
               Lake
               ,
            
             
               Such
               frothy
               Furrows
               ,
               such
               a
               foamy
               Track
               ,
            
             
               That
               all
               the
               Waters
               of
               the
               Deep
               appear
            
             
               Hoary
               with
               Age
               ,
               or
               Grey
               with
               suddain
               fear
               .
            
             
               On
               Earth
               ,
               in
               Strength
               his
               Equal
               is
               not
               found
               ,
            
             
               For
               tho'
               he
               's
               low
               and
               creeps
               along
               the
               ground
               ,
            
             
             
               Yet
               he
               the
               loftiest
               ,
               proudest
               Beast
               disdains
               ,
            
             
               And
               o'er
               the
               fruitful
               Vally
               Monarch
               reigns
               .
            
             
               The
               strongest
               Creatures
               his
               dread
               Presence
               fear
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               he
               in
               pastime
               can
               in
               pieces
               tear
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             CH.
             XLII
             .
          
           
             
               These
               awful
               words
               ,
               in
               which
               so
               brightly
               shine
            
             
               Wisdom
               and
               Power
               ,
               and
               Majesty
               Divine
               ;
            
             
               Did
               Iob
               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
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               his
               Anger
               was
               appeas'd
               .
            
             
             
               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
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               ,
               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
               
               Iob's
               defence
               .
            
          
           
             
               These
               three
               wise
               Friends
               ,
               of
               Wrath
               Divine
               afraid
               ,
            
             
               Their
               due
               Submission
               to
               th'
               Almighty
               made
               ,
            
             
               And
               Iob
               to
               be
               their
               Intercessour
               pray'd
               .
            
             
               His
               humble
               Prayer
               th'
               Almighty
               did
               receive
               ,
            
             
               And
               these
               Offenders
               for
               his
               sake
               forgive
               .
            
             
               While
               Iob
               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
               Iob
               deserted
               in
               his
               Straits
               and
               Woes
               ,
            
             
             
               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
               Iemima
               ,
               one
               Kesia
               nam'd
               ,
            
             
               The
               third
               was
               Kerenhappuch
               ,
               Virgins
               fam'd
            
             
               For
               charming
               Beauty
               ,
               which
               the
               Sister
               's
               blest
            
             
               Beyond
               the
               fairest
               Daughters
               of
               the
               East
               .
            
             
               Iob
               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
               .
            
          
        
      
       
         
         
         
           THE
           SONGS
           of
           
             Moses
             ,
             Deborah
          
           ,
           &c.
           WITH
           SOME
           Select
           Psalms
           and
           Chapters
           of
           Isaiah
           ,
           AND
           THE
           Third
           Chapter
           of
           Habakkuk
           ,
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
        
         
           By
           Sir
           
             Richard
             Blackmore
          
           ,
           Kt.
           M.
           D.
           
        
      
       
         
         
         
           THE
           Song
           of
           MOSES
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
           EXODUS
           ,
           Chap.
           XV.
           
        
         
           
             YOur
             Shouts
             to
             Heav'n
             ,
             ye
             Sons
             of
             Iacob
             raise
             ,
          
           
             And
             celebrate
             in
             Songs
             of
             Praise
          
           
             The
             glorious
             Triumphs
             of
             
             Iehovah's
             Pow'r
             ,
          
           
             Applaud
             th'
             Almighty
             Conquerour
             .
          
           
             Let
             all
             the
             wide
             stretcht
             Mouths
             of
             Fame
             ,
          
           
             From
             Pole
             to
             Pole
             his
             wondrous
             Work
             proclaim
             ,
          
           
             To
             make
             Men
             tremble
             ,
             and
             adore
             his
             Name
             .
          
           
             Let
             it
             to
             all
             the
             Realms
             around
             be
             known
             ,
          
           
             How
             he
             his
             Foes
             has
             overthrown
             :
          
           
             How
             he
             disclos'd
             the
             Water's
             hideous
             Womb
             ,
          
           
             And
             did
             in
             Crystal
             Graves
             their
             Troops
             entomb
             .
          
           
             They
             sunk
             and
             perish'd
             in
             the
             Tyde
             ,
          
           
             Where
             now
             triumphant
             Waves
             o'er
             Horse
             and
             Horsemen
             ride
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             is
             our
             Bulwark
             and
             Defence
             ,
          
           
             Shielded
             by
             his
             Omnipotence
          
           
             We
             all
             the
             Heathen
             World
             defy
             :
          
           
             This
             mighty
             Warriour
             ,
             this
             our
             great
             Ally
             ,
          
           
             With
             his
             Etherial
             Shield
             and
             Arms
             Divine
             ,
          
           
             Does
             at
             the
             head
             of
             our
             Battalions
             shine
             .
          
           
           
             Griping
             his
             bright
             Immortal
             Lance
          
           
             He
             does
             before
             our
             Host
             to
             charge
             the
             Foe
             advance
             .
          
           
             Israel
             by
             strength
             deriv'd
             from
             him
             is
             strong
             ,
          
           
             And
             as
             he
             is
             our
             Strength
             ,
             he
             shall
             be
             too
             our
             Song
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             to
             discharge
             us
             from
             our
             Bondage
             ,
             broke
          
           
             Th'
             inexorable
             Tyrant's
             Yoke
             .
          
           
             He
             from
             our
             heavy
             Chains
             our
             Feet
             releas'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             our
             gall'd
             Shoulders
             of
             their
             Burdens
             eas'd
             .
          
           
             He
             brought
             us
             from
             th'
             inhospitable
             Land
             ,
          
           
             And
             rescu'd
             us
             from
             
             Pharoah's
             salvage
             hand
             .
          
           
             He
             terribly
             chastis'd
             these
             Pagan
             Pow'rs
             ;
          
           
             And
             as
             this
             Lord
             of
             Hosts
             was
             ours
             ,
          
           
             He
             was
             our
             Fathers
             All-sufficient
             God
             ;
          
           
             We
             therefore
             will
             prepare
             him
             an
             Abode
             :
          
           
             We
             will
             an
             Altar
             and
             a
             Temple
             reer
             ,
          
           
             A
             sacred
             Place
             of
             Praise
             and
             Pray'r
             ,
          
           
             There
             we
             'll
             adore
             our
             great
             Deliverer
             .
          
        
         
           
             Th'
             Eternal
             does
             in
             Arms
             excel
             ;
          
           
             What
             Pow'r
             can
             his
             projected
             Darts
             repel
             ?
          
           
             Who
             can
             against
             his
             Thunder
             stand
             ,
          
           
             Or
             who
             elude
             his
             never-erring
             Hand
             ?
          
           
             Let
             him
             but
             weild
             his
             dreadful
             Blade
          
           
             Of
             malleable
             Light'ning
             made
             ,
          
           
             Let
             him
             advance
             into
             the
             Field
             ,
          
           
             And
             lift
             on
             high
             his
             Adamantine
             Shield
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             brighter
             Lustre
             drowns
             the
             waining
             Sun
             ,
          
           
             As
             much
             as
             that
             the
             sick'ning
             Moon
             ;
          
           
           
             Let
             him
             with
             his
             Celestial
             Equipage
          
           
             March
             on
             as
             ready
             to
             engage
             ;
          
           
             And
             where
             's
             th'
             undaunted
             Man
             that
             would
             not
             fly
             ,
          
           
             Or
             if
             he
             stay'd
             ,
             would
             not
             with
             Terror
             dye
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             sharply
             has
             rebuk'd
             th'
             
             Egyptian's
             Pride
             ,
          
           
             Who
             his
             Almighty
             Arm
             defy'd
             .
          
           
             Against
             their
             mighty
             Host
             he
             did
             prepare
          
           
             An
             unexpected
             Watry
             War.
          
           
             He
             on
             the
             Deep
             his
             Terrors
             did
             display
             ,
          
           
             And
             drew
             his
             rolling
             Legions
             in
             Array
             :
          
           
             He
             bad
             the
             Waves
             in
             Martial
             Order
             flow
             ,
          
           
             And
             made
             his
             fluid
             Squadrons
             charge
             the
             Foe
             .
          
        
         
           
             Th'
             amaz'd
             Egyptians
             fled
             for
             fear
             ,
          
           
             While
             roaring
             Surges
             hung
             upon
             their
             Rear
             :
          
           
             The
             foaming
             Files
             o'ertook
             them
             in
             the
             Chase
             ,
          
           
             And
             overwhelm'd
             the
             cruel
             Race
             .
          
           
             Bows
             ,
             Banners
             ,
             Spears
             ,
             an
             unexampled
             Wreck
             ,
          
           
             Lay
             floating
             on
             the
             Ocean's
             back
             .
          
           
             While
             Chariots
             ,
             Horse
             and
             Horsemen
             kill'd
             ,
          
           
             The
             Seas
             inferiour
             Chambers
             fill'd
             .
          
           
             The
             mighty
             Host
             the
             Caves
             beneath
             opprest
             ,
          
           
             And
             the
             low
             horrors
             of
             the
             Deep
             increast
             .
          
           
             Of
             such
             a
             wealthy
             Spoil
             the
             Sea
             before
          
           
             Ne'er
             rob'd
             the
             Land
             ,
             while
             pent
             within
             the
             Shore
             .
          
           
             While
             no
             Detachment
             of
             its
             Waves
             it
             made
             ,
          
           
             The
             Frontier
             Regions
             to
             invade
             ,
          
           
             No
             Watry
             Partys
             sent
             abroad
          
           
             To
             sweep
             the
             neighb'ring
             Fields
             ,
             and
             plunder
             M●ns
             Abode
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             High
             heaps
             of
             Swords
             and
             Bucklers
             stood
          
           
             Like
             Rocks
             of
             polish'd
             Iron
             in
             the
             Flood
             .
          
           
             The
             Fish
             made
             hast
             to
             seize
             their
             Prey
             ,
          
           
             But
             when
             they
             saw
             the
             shining
             Shields
             display
          
           
             Thro'
             the
             dark
             Realm
             a
             monstrous
             unknown
             Day
             ,
          
           
             And
             how
             the
             Dead
             in
             Armour
             shone
          
           
             With
             scaly
             Sides
             far
             brighter
             than
             their
             own
             ;
          
           
             Away
             th'
             affrighted
             Spoilers
             fled
             ,
          
           
             And
             thus
             their
             Arms
             that
             could
             not
             give
          
           
             Protection
             to
             th'
             Egyptians
             when
             alive
             ,
          
           
             Protected
             them
             when
             Dead
             .
          
        
         
           
             Like
             Stones
             they
             sank
             beneath
             the
             Flood
             ,
          
           
             And
             the
             Red
             Sea
             appeas'd
             their
             Thirst
             of
             Blood.
          
           
             Glorious
             in
             Pow'r
             ,
             great
             Lord
             of
             Hosts
             ,
          
           
             Is
             thy
             right
             hand
             which
             such
             Atchievments
             boasts
             ,
          
           
             Which
             has
             defeated
             
             Pharoah's
             Troops
             ,
          
           
             And
             sunk
             to
             Hell
             the
             proud
             
             Egyptian's
             Hopes
             .
          
           
             In
             the
             low
             Prisons
             of
             the
             Deep
          
           
             Thou
             dost
             thy
             Captive
             Rebels
             keep
             ,
          
           
             Mountains
             of
             liquid
             Crystal
             on
             'em
             cast
             ,
          
           
             Secure
             the
             Doors
             ,
             and
             bar
             the
             Dungeons
             fast
             .
          
        
         
           
             Array'd
             with
             fearful
             Glory
             ,
             girt
             with
             Might
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             didst
             thy
             Peoples
             Battels
             fight
             .
          
           
             Thou
             hast
             o'erthrown
             the
             impious
             Foes
             ,
          
           
             Who
             against
             thee
             and
             Israel
             rose
             ;
          
           
             They
             were
             in
             Storms
             of
             Fury
             on
             them
             pour'd
             ,
          
           
             As
             Stubble
             is
             by
             raging
             Flames
             devour'd
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             Commanded
             by
             thy
             Breath
             th'
             obsequious
             Main
          
           
             Stood
             still
             ,
             and
             gather'd
             up
             its
             flowing
             Train
             .
          
           
             Th'
             Almighty
             did
             the
             Sea
             divide
             ,
          
           
             And
             as
             he
             rends
             the
             Hills
             ,
             he
             split
             the
             cleaving
             Tyde
             .
          
           
             Benumb'd
             with
             fear
             the
             Waves
             erected
             stood
             ,
          
           
             O'erlooking
             all
             the
             distant
             Flood
             .
          
           
             Mountains
             of
             Craggy
             Billows
             did
             arise
             ,
          
           
             And
             Rocks
             of
             stiffen'd
             Water
             reach'd
             the
             Skys
             .
          
           
             Remoter
             Waves
             came
             crowding
             on
             to
             see
          
           
             This
             strange
             Transforming
             Mystery
             ,
          
           
             But
             they
             approaching
             near
          
           
             Where
             the
             high
             Crystal
             Ridges
             did
             appear
             ,
          
           
             Felt
             the
             Divine
             Contagion's
             Force
             ,
          
           
             Mov'd
             slothfully
             a
             while
             ,
             and
             then
             quite
             stopt
             their
             course
             .
          
        
         
           
             Upon
             their
             March
             they
             insolently
             cry'd
             ,
          
           
             Let
             us
             pursue
             the
             flying
             Slaves
             ,
          
           
             We
             'll
             overtake
             them
             ,
             and
             the
             Spoil
             divide
             ,
          
           
             Where
             is
             the
             God
             that
             Israel
             saves
             ?
          
           
             We
             'll
             our
             Revenge
             ,
             and
             Lust
             of
             Slaughter
             cloy
             ,
          
           
             Without
             relenting
             we
             'll
             destroy
             ,
          
           
             We
             'll
             weild
             the
             Spear
             ,
             and
             draw
             the
             Sword
             ,
          
           
             And
             root
             this
             Nation
             out
             by
             all
             abhor'd
             .
          
           
             We
             'll
             bath
             the
             Desart
             with
             a
             Purple
             Flood
             ,
          
           
             And
             heal
             its
             gaping
             Wounds
             with
             Hebrew
             Blood
             !
          
           
             While
             one
             vile
             Wretch
             alive
             is
             found
             ,
          
           
             The
             Trumpet
             no
             retreat
             shall
             sound
             .
          
           
             In
             dreadful
             Language
             we
             'll
             declare
             ,
          
           
             Th'
             Egyptians
             still
             their
             Masters
             are
             .
          
           
           
             Tho'
             their
             Rebellion
             they
             should
             mourn
             ,
          
           
             And
             ask
             to
             Egypt's
             Brick-kilns
             to
             return
             ,
          
           
             We
             would
             not
             spare
             the
             hateful
             Race
             ,
          
           
             We
             would
             all
             marks
             of
             
             Iacob's
             House
             efface
             .
          
           
             Let
             'em
             to
             Moses
             cry
             they
             are
             opprest
             ,
          
           
             While
             we
             in
             Vengeance
             reign
             ,
             and
             on
             Destruction
             feast
             .
          
        
         
           
             As
             thus
             the
             Gulph
             the
             proud
             Egyptians
             crost
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             loud
             threats
             pursu'd
             our
             trembling
             Host
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             with
             thy
             powerful
             Wind
             didst
             blow
             ,
          
           
             And
             strait
             the
             thawing
             Heaps
             began
             to
             flow
             .
          
           
             The
             Waves
             that
             stood
             as
             Bullwarks
             were
             dissolv'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             Pharoah's
             Chariots
             and
             his
             Troops
             involv'd
             .
          
           
             They
             from
             the
             roaring
             Deluge
             would
             have
             fled
             ,
          
           
             But
             to
             the
             bottom
             sank
             as
             Lead
             .
          
        
         
           
             Among
             the
             Gods
             of
             all
             the
             Nations
             round
             ,
          
           
             Equal
             to
             thee
             is
             any
             found
             ?
          
           
             Any
             that
             can
             with
             Rival
             Glory
             shine
             ,
          
           
             And
             shew
             as
             perfect
             Holiness
             as
             thine
             ?
          
           
             When
             we
             thy
             various
             Triumphs
             sing
             ,
          
           
             And
             great
             Atchievments
             which
             exalt
             thy
             Name
             ,
          
           
             To
             us
             thy
             Praises
             Joy
             and
             Comfort
             bring
             ,
          
           
             But
             to
             thy
             Foes
             Confusion
             ,
             Fear
             and
             Shame
             .
          
           
             Thou
             art
             a
             wonder-working
             God
             ,
             thy
             Might
          
           
             Does
             all
             thy
             trembling
             Enemys
             affright
             ,
          
           
             But
             grateful
             Admiration
             in
             our
             Breasts
             excite
             .
          
        
         
           
             When
             thou
             extendest
             o'er
             the
             Tyde
          
           
             Thy
             hand
             ,
             that
             does
             all
             Nature
             guide
             ,
          
           
           
             The
             conscious
             Waves
             the
             high
             Command
             obey'd
             ,
          
           
             Like
             melting
             heaps
             of
             Snow
             they
             flow'd
             apace
             ,
          
           
             Marching
             with
             fury
             on
             ,
             they
             disarray'd
             ,
          
           
             Then
             swallow'd
             up
             the
             impious
             Race
             .
          
           
             In
             great
             Compassion
             thou
             hast
             broke
          
           
             Th'
             Oppressor's
             hard
             unsufferable
             Yoke
             ;
          
           
             For
             
             Iacob's
             Sons
             in
             Person
             thou
             hast
             fought
             ,
          
           
             Amazing
             Miracles
             hast
             wrought
             ,
          
           
             And
             Israel
             back
             from
             Egypt
             brought
             .
          
           
             To
             sacred
             
             Canaan's
             promis'd
             Land
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             with
             thy
             mighty
             outstretcht
             hand
          
           
             Shalt
             rescu'd
             Israel
             guide
             ,
          
           
             Where
             with
             thy
             favour
             blest
             they
             shall
             in
             Peace
             abide
             .
          
        
         
           
             Fame
             shall
             together
             with
             these
             Tydings
             spread
          
           
             Thro'
             all
             the
             Nations
             Universal
             dread
             ;
          
           
             Wild
             looks
             and
             gestures
             shall
             declare
             ,
          
           
             How
             great
             their
             Fears
             and
             Sorrows
             are
             .
          
           
             Th'
             Inhabitants
             of
             Palestina's
             Land
          
           
             Shall
             trembling
             and
             astonish'd
             stand
             ,
          
           
             Edom's
             proud
             Potentates
             shall
             be
             afraid
             ,
          
           
             And
             
             Moab's
             mighty
             Men
             dismay'd
             .
          
           
             The
             dreadful
             News
             shall
             make
             pale
             Tyrants
             start
             ,
          
           
             And
             melt
             within
             his
             Breast
             the
             stoutest
             Warriour's
             Heart
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Lords
             of
             Canaan
             shall
             their
             fears
             express
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             their
             People
             their
             distress
             .
          
           
             The
             Terrors
             of
             thy
             Conqu'ring
             Arm
             ,
          
           
             These
             of
             their
             Strength
             and
             Courage
             shall
             disarm
             .
          
           
           
             Thy
             Wonders
             will
             their
             Captains
             so
             amaze
             ,
          
           
             That
             they
             will
             still
             and
             Speechless
             stand
             and
             gaze
             ;
          
           
             While
             
             Iacob's
             Sons
             by
             thee
             from
             Bondage
             brought
             ,
          
           
             The
             People
             thou
             hast
             bought
             ,
          
           
             And
             for
             the
             Purchase
             newly
             made
             ,
          
           
             Such
             mighty
             Sums
             of
             Miracles
             hast
             paid
             ,
          
           
             To
             Canaans
             happy
             Land
             shall
             safely
             be
             convey'd
             .
          
        
         
           
             Thither
             thou'lt
             lead
             the
             favour'd
             Race
             ,
          
           
             And
             give
             them
             safe
             Possession
             of
             the
             Place
             ;
          
           
             Thou
             wilt
             fulfil
             thy
             great
             design
             ,
          
           
             By
             planting
             there
             these
             Colonys
             Divine
             ,
          
           
             Their
             happy
             Dwellings
             shall
             be
             spread
             ,
          
           
             Around
             
             Moriah's
             lofty
             head
             ,
          
           
             On
             which
             thy
             sacred
             Dome
             shall
             stand
             ,
          
           
             Diffusing
             pious
             Awe
             thro'
             all
             the
             Land.
             
          
        
         
           
             The
             Lord
             shall
             rule
             with
             Power
             and
             Glory
             crown'd
             ,
          
           
             No
             Time
             or
             Space
             shall
             e'er
             his
             Empire
             bound
             .
          
           
             Immortal
             Pillars
             his
             sixt
             Throne
             sustain
             ,
          
           
             And
             as
             himself
             ,
             Eternal
             is
             his
             Reign
             .
          
        
         
           
             Not
             like
             proud
             
             Pharoah's
             ,
             who
             his
             Army
             led
          
           
             To
             chase
             our
             Youth
             ,
             who
             from
             his
             Fury
             fled
             .
          
           
             Who
             enter'd
             with
             his
             Troops
             the
             opening
             Sea
             ,
          
           
             And
             hop'd
             to
             pass
             the
             dreadful
             Defile
             ;
          
           
             But
             God
             who
             had
             his
             way
             beset
             ,
          
           
             Drew
             o'er
             the
             Host
             his
             watry
             Net
             ;
          
           
             To
             finish
             this
             miraculous
             Campaign
             ,
          
           
             He
             loos'd
             the
             Bonds
             that
             did
             the
             Waves
             restrain
             ;
          
           
           
             Strait
             the
             congested
             Billows
             tumbled
             down
             ,
          
           
             And
             liquid
             Ruins
             did
             the
             Tyrant
             drown
             :
          
           
             His
             Chariots
             and
             his
             Horse
             were
             swept
             away
             ,
          
           
             Ingulph'd
             ,
             and
             swallow'd
             by
             th'
             o'erwhelming
             Sea.
          
           
             But
             the
             firm
             Waters
             did
             erected
             stand
             ,
          
           
             On
             either
             hand
             ,
          
           
             And
             left
             dry
             ground
             between
             till
             Israel
             gain'd
             the
             Land.
             
          
        
      
       
         
         
         
           THE
           Song
           of
           DEBORAH
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
           JUDGES
           ,
           Chap.
           V.
           
        
         
           
             LET
             the
             Victorious
             Tribes
             of
             Israel
             sing
             ,
          
           
             Let
             their
             loud
             Shouts
             thro'
             Heav'ns
             wide
             Chambers
             ring
             .
          
           
             Let
             them
             applaud
             with
             one
             united
             Voice
             ,
          
           
             Their
             God
             ,
             the
             glorious
             Author
             of
             their
             Joys
             .
          
           
             Let
             them
             Triumphant
             Acclamations
             raise
             ,
          
           
             And
             spend
             the
             Breath
             he
             gives
             them
             ,
             in
             his
             Praise
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             has
             our
             Swords
             with
             Conquest
             crown'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             spread
             the
             fear
             of
             
             Israel's
             Name
             around
             .
          
           
             He
             to
             avenge
             us
             on
             our
             Foes
             ,
          
           
             Has
             crush'd
             the
             haughty
             Pow'rs
             that
             did
             our
             Arms
             oppose
             .
          
           
             Our
             Troops
             from
             Heav'n
             with
             noble
             Zeal
             inspir'd
             ,
          
           
             The
             glorious
             Hazards
             of
             the
             Field
             desir'd
             .
          
           
             God
             fir'd
             their
             Veins
             with
             Military
             Rage
             ,
          
           
             And
             made
             'em
             long
             for
             Arms
             ,
             and
             eager
             to
             engage
             .
          
        
         
           
             Ye
             Potentates
             and
             Princes
             hear
             ,
          
           
             Ye
             Kings
             and
             Rulers
             of
             the
             Earth
             give
             Ear.
          
           
             I
             Deb'rah
             I
             ,
             will
             in
             a
             lofty
             strain
          
           
             Sing
             the
             great
             King
             ,
             by
             whom
             you
             live
             and
             reign
             .
          
           
           
             When
             God
             in
             Person
             did
             our
             Tribes
             command
             ,
          
           
             And
             led
             'em
             with
             a
             mighty
             Hand
          
           
             From
             wild
             Arabia's
             Rocks
             to
             Canaan's
             Land
             :
          
           
             As
             soon
             as
             he
             had
             pass'd
             the
             Field
             ,
          
           
             By
             th'
             Idumean
             Farmer
             till'd
             ,
          
           
             What
             marks
             of
             Greatness
             did
             his
             March
             attend
             ?
          
           
             What
             Pow'r
             in
             Miracles
             did
             he
             expend
             ?
          
           
             What
             Terrors
             did
             he
             send
             before
             to
             fright
          
           
             The
             Lords
             of
             Canaan
             and
             the
             Amorite
             ?
          
           
             What
             Pomp
             and
             Majesty
             did
             he
             display
             ?
          
           
             Floods
             of
             impetuous
             Glory
             delug'd
             all
             his
             way
             .
          
           
             From
             his
             refulgent
             Sword
             ,
             and
             radiant
             Shield
             ,
          
           
             Flushes
             of
             rapid
             Splendor
             spread
             the
             Field
             .
          
           
             The
             trembling
             Heathen
             fled
             for
             fear
             ,
          
           
             For
             who
             could
             such
             a
             stress
             of
             Lustre
             bear
             ?
          
        
         
           
             At
             every
             step
             th'
             Almighty
             Leader
             took
             ,
          
           
             Th'
             astonish'd
             Earth
             down
             to
             its
             Center
             shook
             .
          
           
             Contending
             Tempests
             bellow'd
             under
             ground
             ,
          
           
             And
             strong
             Convulsions
             did
             with
             horrid
             sound
          
           
             The
             low
             Apartments
             break
             ,
             and
             all
             the
             Vaults
             confound
             .
          
           
             The
             Earth
             with
             dreadful
             Gripes
             was
             sore
             opprest
             ,
          
           
             Which
             did
             its
             twisted
             Bowels
             wrest
             .
          
           
             From
             their
             low
             Channels
             ,
             Subterranean
             Waves
          
           
             Were
             thrown
             on
             Sulphur
             Mines
             ,
             and
             fiery
             Caves
             .
          
           
             The
             Chasms
             of
             gaping
             Plains
             and
             Mountains
             rent
             ,
          
           
             Did
             yield
             to
             struggling
             Vapours
             vent
             ,
          
           
             And
             suffocated
             Nature
             to
             relieve
             ,
          
           
             To
             ambient
             Air
             admission
             give
             .
          
           
           
             Heav'ns
             Crystal
             Battlements
             to
             pieces
             dash'd
             ,
          
           
             In
             Storms
             of
             Hail
             were
             downward
             hurl'd
             ;
          
           
             Loud
             Thunder
             roar'd
             ,
             red
             Lightning
             flash'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             universal
             Uproar
             fill'd
             the
             World.
          
           
             Torrents
             of
             Water
             ,
             Floods
             of
             Flame
          
           
             From
             Heav'n
             in
             fighting
             Ruins
             came
             .
          
           
             At
             once
             the
             Hills
             that
             to
             the
             Clouds
             aspire
             ,
          
           
             Were
             wash'd
             with
             Rain
             ,
             and
             scorcht
             with
             Fire
             .
          
           
             The
             Waters
             down
             the
             Mountains
             Sides
             were
             pour'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             o'er
             the
             Vale
             th'
             unbridled
             Deluge
             roar'd
             .
          
           
             Canaan's
             proud
             Hills
             with
             this
             affright
          
           
             Shook
             to
             their
             Base
             ,
             and
             well
             they
             might
             ;
          
           
             For
             Sinai
             rock'd
             and
             quak'd
             ,
             when
             God
          
           
             Made
             on
             its
             Brow
             his
             terrible
             Abode
             .
          
        
         
           
             In
             Shamgar's
             and
             in
             
             Iael's
             days
             ,
          
           
             Robbers
             and
             Thieves
             infested
             all
             the
             ways
             .
          
           
             These
             Sons
             of
             Violence
             pursu'd
             their
             Prey
          
           
             On
             publick
             Roads
             in
             open
             day
             .
          
           
             Poor
             Trav'llers
             to
             escape
             the
             cruel
             hands
          
           
             Of
             these
             Licentious
             ,
             lawless
             Bands
             ,
          
           
             They
             pass'd
             thro'
             Ways
             and
             Paths
             unknown
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             still
             in
             fear
             ,
             from
             Town
             to
             Town
             .
          
           
             The
             trembling
             People
             by
             these
             Spoilers
             scar'd
             ,
          
           
             To
             Towns
             of
             Strength
             in
             Troops
             repair'd
             .
          
           
             They
             left
             their
             old
             Abodes
             to
             be
             possest
          
           
             By
             Owls
             and
             Bats
             ,
             and
             every
             rav'ning
             Beast
             :
          
           
             Until
             their
             fruitful
             Land
             at
             last
             ,
          
           
             Became
             a
             wild
             Inhospitable
             Wast
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             O
             Israel
             ,
             these
             were
             thy
             sad
             Wants
             and
             Woes
             ,
          
           
             These
             thy
             Oppressions
             when
             I
             Deb'rah
             rose
             ;
          
           
             When
             I
             arose
             a
             Mother
             to
             restore
          
           
             Thy
             former
             Peace
             ,
             and
             Wealth
             ,
             and
             Pow'r
             .
          
           
             Till
             then
             thy
             blind
             Apostate
             Sons
             forsook
          
           
             Theirs
             ,
             and
             their
             Father's
             God
             ,
             and
             took
          
           
             New
             fangled
             Gods
             ,
             of
             old
             unknown
             ,
          
           
             Gods
             lately
             into
             Reputation
             grown
             ,
          
           
             Gods
             carv'd
             in
             Wood
             ,
             or
             cut
             in
             Stone
             .
          
        
         
           
             Heav'n
             thus
             provok'd
             ,
             excited
             Foes
             ,
          
           
             Who
             full
             of
             rage
             against
             our
             Citys
             rose
             .
          
           
             Confed'rate
             Kingdoms
             War
             with
             Israel
             wag'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             horrid
             Slaughter
             in
             our
             Bowels
             rag'd
             :
          
           
             And
             well
             it
             might
             ,
             for
             we
             were
             so
             disarm'd
             ,
          
           
             That
             when
             the
             Foe
             our
             Gates
             alarm'd
             ,
          
           
             Did
             there
             a
             single
             Shield
             or
             Spear
             ,
          
           
             Midst
             forty
             Thousand
             Israelites
             appear
             ?
          
           
             O
             Israel
             then
             ,
             I
             rose
             to
             rescue
             thee
          
           
             From
             thy
             vile
             Chains
             to
             set
             thee
             free
             .
          
        
         
           
             Nor
             can
             my
             Song
             too
             much
             exalt
             the
             Fame
          
           
             Of
             those
             great
             Chiefs
             ,
             who
             freely
             came
          
           
             To
             give
             me
             Aid
             ,
             and
             to
             subdue
             our
             Foes
             ,
          
           
             Did
             gen'rously
             their
             Lives
             expose
             .
          
           
             Give
             them
             their
             due
             Applause
             ,
             but
             chiefly
             bless
          
           
             The
             God
             ,
             who
             gave
             them
             Courage
             and
             Success
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             Ye
             Lords
             in
             Courts
             of
             Judgment
             who
             preside
             ,
          
           
             And
             thro'
             the
             Streets
             in
             awful
             State
             ,
          
           
             With
             num'rous
             Trains
             attended
             ride
             ,
          
           
             Th'
             Almighty's
             wondrous
             Work
             relate
             .
          
           
             Ye
             People
             who
             can
             leave
             your
             safe
             Abodes
             ,
          
           
             And
             travel
             now
             secure
             in
             Publick
             Roads
             ;
          
           
             You
             that
             do
             now
             in
             Joy
             and
             Peace
             ,
          
           
             Your
             Fig-trees
             and
             your
             Vines
             possess
             ;
          
           
             You
             who
             no
             more
             the
             noise
             of
             Archers
             hear
             ,
          
           
             But
             unmolested
             to
             your
             Springs
             repair
             ;
          
           
             Do
             you
             rehearse
             God's
             righteous
             Deeds
             ,
          
           
             Whence
             this
             your
             unexpected
             Peace
             proceeds
             .
          
        
         
           
             Awake
             ,
             awake
             ,
             O
             Deborah
             ,
             awake
             ,
          
           
             Quickly
             thy
             Harp
             and
             Timbrel
             take
             .
          
           
             A
             Song
             of
             Triumph
             and
             of
             Joy
             rehearse
             ,
          
           
             In
             lofty
             Strains
             ,
             and
             noble
             Verse
             .
          
           
             A
             Song
             that
             may
             just
             Honour
             pay
          
           
             To
             the
             great
             Deeds
             of
             this
             illustrious
             Day
             .
          
        
         
           
             O
             Barak
             rise
             ,
             arise
             thou
             valiant
             Chief
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             Conqu'ring
             Arms
             have
             brought
             relief
          
           
             To
             Israel
             in
             our
             vast
             distress
             ,
          
           
             And
             made
             our
             haughty
             Foes
             their
             Impotence
             confess
             .
          
           
             Thou
             mighty
             Man
             advance
             ,
             and
             lead
             along
          
           
             Thy
             Spoils
             and
             Trophys
             thro'
             the
             cleaving
             Throng
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             Captives
             lead
             in
             clanking
             Chains
             ,
          
           
             All
             their
             vast
             Army's
             small
             Rematns
             .
          
           
           
             Thou
             who
             the
             dreadful
             Battel
             didst
             display
          
           
             On
             that
             decisive
             ,
             glorious
             Day
             ,
          
           
             Now
             draw
             thy
             Pomp
             and
             Triumph
             in
             Array
             .
          
        
         
           
             
             Iacob's
             Remains
             by
             Heav'n
             with
             Empire
             crown'd
          
           
             Have
             laid
             their
             Yoke
             on
             
             Canaan's
             Kings
             around
             .
          
           
             Ev'n
             me
             the
             Lord
             has
             rais'd
             to
             Regal
             Sway
             ,
          
           
             And
             made
             the
             Mighty
             my
             Commands
             obey
             .
          
           
             Thy
             Sons
             did
             first
             the
             War
             embrace
             ,
          
           
             Forward
             in
             Arms
             ,
             O
             Benjamin
             ;
          
           
             And
             next
             to
             thee
             a
             few
             of
             
             Ephraim's
             Race
          
           
             Advanc'd
             ,
             and
             joyn'd
             their
             Troops
             with
             thine
             .
          
           
             Rulers
             and
             Nobles
             from
             Manasses
             came
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             brave
             example
             did
             the
             rest
             inflame
             .
          
           
             The
             Scribes
             of
             Zebulun
             ,
             and
             learned
             Men
             ,
          
           
             To
             weild
             the
             Sword
             laid
             down
             the
             Pen.
          
           
             The
             Princes
             and
             the
             Lords
             of
             Issachar
             ?
          
           
             Despising
             Danger
             ,
             undertook
             the
             War.
          
           
             With
             Zeal
             they
             follow'd
             me
             their
             Head
             ,
          
           
             And
             Barak
             to
             the
             Field
             their
             valiant
             Squadrons
             led
             .
          
        
         
           
             Ah
             Reuben
             ,
             how
             were
             we
             dismay'd
             ,
          
           
             To
             be
             defrauded
             of
             thy
             Aid
             !
          
           
             Ah
             ,
             why
             didst
             thou
             desert
             thy
             Country's
             Cause
             ?
          
           
             Why
             did
             not
             Reuben
             share
             this
             day's
             applause
             ?
          
           
             Say
             when
             thy
             Breth'ren
             arm'd
             with
             Sword
             and
             Shield
             ,
          
           
             For
             Liberty
             advanc'd
             into
             the
             Field
             ,
          
           
             Why
             didst
             thou
             sullen
             in
             thy
             Tents
             abide
             ,
          
           
             As
             if
             in
             Blood
             and
             Int'rest
             not
             Ally'd
             ?
          
           
           
             Couldst
             thou
             to
             Arms
             thy
             Shepherd's
             Crook
             prefer
             ,
          
           
             And
             rather
             chuse
             thy
             bleating
             Sheep
             to
             hear
             ,
          
           
             Than
             the
             loud
             Thunder
             of
             a
             noble
             War
             ?
          
           
             Oh
             ,
             how
             much
             Trouble
             to
             our
             State
             ,
          
           
             Did
             this
             ignoble
             Deed
             of
             thine
             create
             ?
          
        
         
           
             Gilead
             beyond
             the
             Flood
             of
             Iopran
             stay'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             of
             the
             haughty
             Foe
             afraid
             ,
          
           
             Refus'd
             to
             give
             his
             Brethren
             Aid
             .
          
           
             Dan
             on
             his
             Wealth
             and
             Shipping
             too
             intent
             ,
          
           
             No
             Succours
             to
             our
             Army
             sent
             .
          
           
             Asher
             with
             like
             inglorious
             Negligence
             ,
          
           
             Trusting
             to
             Rocks
             and
             Caves
             as
             his
             defence
             ,
          
           
             Stay'd
             on
             the
             Shore
             ,
             and
             no
             Assistance
             gave
             ,
          
           
             Our
             Worship
             ,
             or
             our
             Liberty
             to
             save
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             oh
             !
             what
             wondrous
             Deeds
             were
             done
          
           
             By
             Napthali
             and
             Zebulun
             !
          
           
             With
             what
             an
             ardour
             ,
             what
             a
             warlike
             rage
          
           
             Did
             those
             brave
             Men
             in
             Fight
             engage
             ?
          
           
             Methinks
             I
             see
             those
             Warriours
             make
          
           
             Their
             bold
             and
             irresistible
             Attack
             .
          
           
             Greedy
             and
             fond
             of
             Danger
             ,
             they
          
           
             The
             Squadrons
             cleft
             ,
             and
             cut
             the
             way
          
           
             To
             the
             chief
             Places
             of
             the
             Field
             ,
          
           
             Which
             did
             the
             chiefest
             choice
             of
             ruin
             yield
             ,
          
           
             Which
             were
             with
             plenty
             of
             Destruction
             stor'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             the
             horrid
             shapes
             of
             danger
             did
             afford
             :
          
           
             Where
             Death
             triumphant
             in
             the
             Battel
             stood
             ,
          
           
             Besmear'd
             with
             Brains
             ,
             and
             Dust
             ,
             and
             Blood.
             
          
        
         
           
           
             Great
             Potentates
             of
             formidable
             Fame
             ,
          
           
             Captains
             and
             Kings
             against
             us
             came
             ;
          
           
             Their
             confluent
             Troops
             from
             every
             Coast
             ,
          
           
             Compos'd
             a
             vast
             o'er●lowing
             Host.
          
           
             We
             saw
             th'
             advancing
             Deluge
             from
             afar
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             the
             must'ring
             Tydes
             of
             complicated
             War.
          
           
             They
             stopt
             ,
             and
             in
             Battalia
             stood
             ,
          
           
             Upon
             the
             Banks
             of
             
             Kishon's
             Flood
             ;
          
           
             Thither
             our
             eager
             Squadrons
             flew
             ,
          
           
             There
             did
             we
             fight
             ,
             and
             there
             proud
             
             Iabin's
             Troops
             subdue
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             radiant
             Host
             of
             Stars
             above
          
           
             Drew
             out
             ,
             and
             did
             in
             warlike
             order
             move
             .
          
           
             They
             did
             their
             Darts
             from
             Heav'n's
             high
             Turrets
             throw
             ,
          
           
             And
             charg'd
             with
             fatal
             influence
             the
             Foe
             .
          
           
             They
             to
             our
             Aid
             their
             glitt'ring
             Forces
             brought
          
           
             And
             against
             Sisera
             in
             their
             Courses
             fought
             .
          
        
         
           
             O
             Kishon
             ,
             then
             thy
             troubled
             Tyde
          
           
             Was
             choak'd
             with
             Carcasses
             ,
             with
             Crimson
             dy'd
             .
          
           
             Swords
             ,
             Helmets
             ,
             Shields
             roll'd
             all
             beneath
             ,
          
           
             And
             of
             the
             lighter
             Instruments
             of
             Death
          
           
             Spears
             ,
             Arrows
             ,
             Darts
             ,
             a
             floating
             Wood
          
           
             O'erspread
             the
             surface
             of
             thy
             Flood
             .
          
           
             Thy
             current
             swept
             their
             Troops
             away
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             their
             mighty
             Spoils
             enrich'd
             the
             wondring
             Sea.
          
           
             Thy
             banks
             ,
             and
             all
             the
             Vale
             about
             ,
          
           
             Were
             spread
             with
             marks
             of
             ignominious
             rout
             .
          
           
           
             Chariots
             o'erturn'd
             ,
             and
             scatter'd
             Shields
             ,
          
           
             And
             broken
             Hoofs
             deform'd
             the
             Fields
             :
          
           
             Hoofs
             torn
             ,
             and
             on
             the
             stony
             places
             cast
             ,
          
           
             O'er
             which
             the
             flying
             Horsemen
             past
             .
          
        
         
           
             Accurst
             th'
             Almighty's
             Angel
             cry'd
             ,
          
           
             Accurst
             be
             Meroz
             who
             her
             help
             deny'd
             .
          
           
             Vengeance
             and
             Plagues
             on
             her
             vile
             People
             light
             ,
          
           
             Who
             would
             not
             for
             their
             God
             and
             Country
             fight
             .
          
           
             But
             let
             us
             
             Iael's
             Courage
             sing
             ,
          
           
             Let
             loud
             Applauses
             thro'
             our
             Citys
             ring
          
           
             Of
             
             Heber's
             Wife
             ,
             above
             the
             rest
          
           
             Of
             Womankind
             may
             she
             be
             blest
             .
          
           
             Great
             Sis'ra
             choak'd
             with
             heat
             and
             dust
             ;
          
           
             Demanded
             Water
             from
             the
             Spring
             ;
          
           
             She
             to
             allay
             the
             Gen'ral's
             thirst
             ,
          
           
             Did
             Milk
             and
             Cream
             in
             costly
             Vessels
             bring
             .
          
           
             She
             to
             the
             Nail
             the
             left
             apply'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             her
             right
             hand
             did
             the
             Hammer
             guid●
             .
          
           
             And
             as
             the
             mighty
             Sisera
          
           
             Stretcht
             on
             the
             Pavement
             ●leeping
             lay
             ,
          
           
             Th'
             undaunted
             Woman
             with
             a
             noble
             blow
             ,
          
           
             Drove
             in
             the
             Nail
             ,
             and
             pierc'd
             his
             Temples
             thro
             .
          
           
             Amaz'd
             ,
             not
             waken'd
             with
             the
             Wound
             ,
          
           
             He
             sprung
             ,
             and
             bounded
             from
             the
             ground
             :
          
           
             The
             brave
             Virago
             did
             her
             blow
             repeat
             ,
          
           
             And
             laid
             him
             prostrate
             at
             her
             feet
             .
          
           
             He
             bow'd
             and
             fell
             ,
             and
             gasping
             lay
             ,
          
           
             Quiver'd
             and
             groan'd
             his
             Life
             away
             .
          
           
           
             She
             drew
             his
             Sword
             ,
             and
             with
             a
             Manly
             stroke
             ,
          
           
             The
             Warriours
             Head
             from
             off
             his
             Shoulders
             took
             .
          
        
         
           
             His
             Mother
             looking
             thro'
             her
             Window
             said
             ,
          
           
             Why
             is
             his
             Triumph
             thus
             delay'd
             ?
          
           
             Why
             does
             his
             lingring
             Chariot
             stay
             ?
          
           
             Why
             roll
             his
             Wheels
             so
             slowly
             on
             the
             way
             ?
          
           
             Her
             Maids
             ,
             nay
             ,
             she
             her self
             reply'd
             ,
          
           
             The
             Conqu'rors
             stay
             their
             Booty
             to
             divide
             .
          
           
             The
             distribution
             made
             ,
             each
             Chief
             can
             shew
          
           
             A
             Damsel
             for
             his
             share
             ,
             or
             two
             .
          
           
             But
             
             Sis'ra's
             Prey
             outshines
             the
             rest
             ,
          
           
             His
             is
             a
             party-colour'd
             Vest
          
           
             Which
             Gems
             and
             rich
             Embroidery
             adorn
             ,
          
           
             Fit
             by
             the
             greatest
             Princes
             to
             be
             worn
             .
          
        
         
           
             These
             boastful
             words
             she
             spoke
             ,
             while
             Sisera
          
           
             Dead
             in
             the
             Tent
             of
             Iael
             lay
             .
          
           
             Lord
             let
             his
             Fate
             attend
             thine
             Enemys
             ,
          
           
             So
             let
             them
             perish
             who
             against
             thee
             rise
             .
          
           
             But
             let
             the
             Men
             who
             Wickedness
             abhor
             ,
          
           
             Who
             love
             thee
             ,
             and
             thy
             Name
             adore
             ,
          
           
             Be
             like
             the
             Sun
             ,
          
           
             Who
             when
             refresh'd
             ,
             does
             in
             his
             Vigour
             rise
             ,
          
           
             Eager
             to
             run
          
           
             All
             the
             blew
             Stages
             of
             the
             spacious
             Skys
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           David's
           Lamentation
           ,
           Occasion'd
           by
           the
           Death
           of
           Saul
           and
           Ionathan
           .
           1
           SAMUEL
           ,
           Chap.
           I.
           
        
         
           
             WHen
             Ionathan
             and
             Saul
             expiring
             lay
             ,
          
           
             On
             the
             curst
             Hills
             of
             Gilb●a
             ,
          
           
             (
             Ah
             black
             ,
             inglorious
             ,
             fatal
             Day
             !
             )
          
           
             'T
             was
             then
             ,
             unhappy
             Israel
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             Beauty
             ,
             Strength
             and
             Glory
             fell
             .
          
           
             How
             were
             thy
             mighty
             Warriours
             slain
             ?
          
           
             What
             a
             red
             Deluge
             bath'd
             the
             reeking
             Plain
             ?
          
           
             How
             were
             thy
             Sons
             to
             Conquest
             long
             inur'd
             ,
          
           
             How
             were
             thy
             Valiant
             Chiefs
             devour'd
          
           
             By
             the
             Philistine's
             unrelenting
             Sword
             ?
          
           
             How
             terrible
             ,
             how
             sudden
             was
             their
             Fate
             ?
          
           
             These
             Pillars
             fal'n
             that
             prop'd
             thy
             State
             ,
          
           
             Who
             shall
             support
             thy
             sinking
             Empire's
             weight
             ?
          
        
         
           
             Let
             Fame
             be
             struck
             with
             horror
             dumb
             ,
          
           
             That
             to
             our
             Foes
             the
             News
             may
             never
             come
             .
          
           
             Let
             our
             dishonour
             be
             to
             Gath
             unknown
             ,
          
           
             Proclaim
             it
             not
             in
             Askelon
             ;
          
           
             Lest
             if
             their
             Daughters
             come
             to
             know
          
           
             Our
             loss
             ,
             and
             unexampled
             Woe
             ,
          
           
           
             They
             in
             their
             Feasts
             and
             Dances
             should
             express
             ,
          
           
             Insultingly
             their
             Joy
             at
             our
             distress
             ;
          
           
             And
             impiously
             '
             devout
             ,
             should
             raise
          
           
             Their
             carv'd
             and
             graven
             Gods
             ,
             in
             wicked
             Songs
             of
             P●
          
        
         
           
             Ye
             Hills
             of
             Gilb●a
             ,
             the
             fatal
             place
             ,
          
           
             O'er
             which
             the
             Foe
             did
             Israel
             chase
             ,
          
           
             Ye
             luckless
             Hills
             ,
          
           
             Spred
             with
             your
             Monarch's
             Ignominious
             Spoils
             ,
          
           
             May
             you
             the
             marks
             of
             Heav'n's
             displeasure
             bear
             ;
          
           
             Be
             you
             no
             more
             the
             Farmer
             's
             care
             :
          
           
             Let
             no
             kind
             Cloud
             hereafter
             ,
             pour
          
           
             On
             your
             parch'd
             Heads
             one
             fruitful
             Shower
             :
          
           
             May
             the
             relentless
             ,
             harden'd
             Sky
             ,
          
           
             No
             Rain
             by
             Day
             ,
             or
             Dew
             by
             Night
             supply
          
           
             To
             ease
             your
             Thir●t
             ,
             and
             gaping
             clefts
             cement
             ;
          
           
             With
             Fire
             be
             blasted
             ,
             and
             with
             Thunder
             rent
             .
          
           
             Let
             not
             a
             blade
             of
             Grass
             or
             Corn
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             one
             green
             Tree
             your
             Heads
             adorn
             .
          
           
             By
             Heav'n
             accurst
             ,
             to
             future
             Ages
             stand
          
           
             Uncultivated
             Heaps
             of
             barren
             Sand.
          
           
             For
             vanquish'd
             Israel
             o'er
             these
             Mountains
             fled
             ,
          
           
             There
             with
             ignoble
             Rout
             the
             Fields
             were
             spred
             ,
          
           
             There
             lay
             our
             Weapons
             mingled
             with
             our
             Dead
             ▪
          
           
             There
             scatter'd
             Bucklers
             lay
             ,
          
           
             Which
             routed
             Israel
             cast
             away
             .
          
           
             There
             may
             the
             Shield
             of
             
               Saul
               ▪
            
             be
             found
             ,
          
           
             Midst
             common
             Bucklers
             on
             the
             ground
             .
          
           
             Thy
             Body
             too
             ,
             unhappy
             Monarch
             ,
             there
          
           
             Lys
             mixt
             with
             vulgar
             Corps
             ,
             expos'd
             in
             open
             Air.
             
          
        
         
           
           
             O
             Saul
             ,
             O
             Ionathan
             ,
             ye
             mighty
             Dead
             ,
          
           
             You
             ne'er
             before
             in
             Battel
             fled
             .
          
           
             The
             Arrows
             from
             the
             Son's
             unerring
             Bow
             ,
          
           
             Have
             pierc'd
             ten
             thousand
             valiant
             Warriours
             thro'
             .
          
           
             The
             Father
             's
             unresisted
             Sword
             ,
          
           
             Like
             raging
             Fires
             around
             devour'd
             :
          
           
             By
             no
             Opposer
             e'er
             withstood
             ,
          
           
             The
             crimson
             Conq'ror
             reek'd
             in
             Hostile
             Blood.
          
           
             Till
             now
             ,
             you
             ever
             us'd
             to
             come
             .
          
           
             Laden
             with
             Spoils
             and
             Trophys
             home
             .
          
           
             Your
             Chariots
             thro'
             the
             confluent
             ,
             gazing
             Throng
             ,
          
           
             Us'd
             in
             slow
             State
             to
             roll
             along
             :
          
           
             While
             crowds
             of
             Captive
             Princes
             chain'd
             ,
          
           
             Wiping
             their
             Brows
             with
             dust
             and
             sweat
             distain'd
             ,
          
           
             Did
             panting
             in
             the
             Pomp
             appear
             ,
          
           
             Part
             of
             the
             long
             Procession
             of
             the
             Rear
             .
          
           
             Our
             Daughters
             ,
             both
             in
             Mind
             and
             Habit
             gay
             ,
          
           
             With
             Songs
             and
             Dances
             on
             the
             way
             ,
          
           
             Met
             ,
             and
             increast
             the
             Triumph
             of
             the
             Day
             .
          
           
             Thus
             Vict'ry
             us'd
             to
             crown
          
           
             The
             mighty
             Father
             ,
             and
             the
             valiant
             Son.
          
           
             Now
             vanquish'd
             ,
             o'er
             the
             Hills
             they
             fly
          
           
             From
             the
             pursuing
             Enemy
             .
          
           
             Surprising
             change
             of
             Providence
             ,
          
           
             Those
             who
             resistless
             were
             ,
             can
             now
             make
             no
             defence
             !
          
        
         
           
             So
             courteous
             were
             the
             Royal
             Pair
             ,
          
           
             So
             condescending
             ,
             mild
             and
             Debonnair
             ,
          
           
             That
             they
             became
             to
             all
             the
             Nation
             dear
             .
          
           
           
             No
             more
             their
             kindness
             fail'd
             to
             move
          
           
             The
             People's
             universal
             Love
             ,
          
           
             Than
             their
             fam'd
             Courage
             did
             their
             Neighbours
             fear
             .
          
           
             They
             liv'd
             in
             strongest
             bonds
             of
             Love
             combin'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             as
             they
             liv'd
             ,
             so
             they
             together
             dy'd
             ;
          
           
             So
             close
             was
             their
             Affection
             joyn'd
             ,
          
           
             That
             Death
             it self
             could
             not
             the
             knot
             divide
             .
          
           
             For
             tho'
             they
             fell
             opprest
             with
             Pagan
             Power
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Love
             still
             triumph'd
             o'er
             the
             Conquerour
             .
          
           
             And
             yet
             their
             Clemency
             did
             ne'er
             abate
          
           
             Their
             Courage
             ,
             and
             their
             Martial
             heat
             .
          
           
             For
             they
             ,
             as
             swift
             as
             hungry
             Eagles
             ,
             flew
             ,
          
           
             Or
             to
             attack
             ,
             or
             to
             pursue
             :
          
           
             And
             when
             they
             were
             in
             fight
             engag'd
             ,
          
           
             Like
             Lyons
             when
             provok'd
             ,
             they
             thro'
             the
             Battel
             rag'd
             .
          
        
         
           
             O
             Daughters
             of
             Ierusalem
             express
             ,
          
           
             A
             Sorrow
             worthy
             of
             our
             vast
             distress
             .
          
           
             Unite
             your
             Groans
             and
             mournful
             Crys
             ,
          
           
             Unite
             your
             Tears
             and
             Agonys
             .
          
           
             Apply
             your selves
             to
             weeping
             day
             and
             night
             ,
          
           
             Raptures
             of
             Grief
             be
             your
             Delight
             .
          
           
             Thro'
             every
             Street
             lamenting
             go
             ,
          
           
             Strains
             of
             unruly
             Anguish
             show
             ,
          
           
             And
             howling
             Temp●sts
             raise
             of
             wild
             despairing
             Woe
             .
          
           
             too
             exquisite
             Affliction
             can't
             be
             shown
             ,
          
           
             Since
             Saul
             is
             fal'n
             from
             his
             Imperial
             Throne
             .
          
           
             Saul
             lys
             upon
             the
             Mountains
             dead
             ,
          
           
             Who
             with
             abundance
             Israel
             fed
             :
          
           
           
             Who
             gave
             you
             Garments
             glorious
             to
             behold
             ,
          
           
             Scarlet
             adorn'd
             with
             Needle-work
             and
             Gold.
          
           
             Who
             hung
             rich
             Bracelets
             on
             your
             Arms
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             bright
             Gems
             increas'd
             your
             native
             Charms
             .
          
           
             Whose
             Arms
             enrich'd
             your
             Towns
             with
             precious
             Spoil
             ,
          
           
             And
             fill'd
             with
             Foreign
             Wealth
             
             Iudea's
             happy
             Soil
             .
          
        
         
           
             How
             did
             the
             mighty
             Prince
             ,
             and
             all
          
           
             His
             valiant
             Chiefs
             in
             Battel
             fall
             !
          
           
             How
             are
             the
             Hills
             with
             Slaughter
             spred
             !
          
           
             How
             are
             our
             Captive
             Sons
             in
             Triumph
             led
             !
          
           
             Captives
             who
             drag
             th'
             inglorious
             Chain
             ,
          
           
             Captives
             less
             happy
             than
             the
             Slain
             !
          
           
             Horror
             and
             Shame
             !
             hark
             ,
             how
             the
             shouting
             Foe
             ,
          
           
             How
             proud
             Philistia
             mocks
             our
             Woe
             !
          
           
             Thro'
             all
             their
             Streets
             what
             Acclamations
             ring
             ?
          
           
             Hear
             how
             their
             Daughters
             sing
             ,
          
           
             See
             how
             they
             dance
             ,
          
           
             While
             their
             victorious
             Troops
             with
             
             Israel's
             Spoils
             advance
             ▪
          
        
         
           
             O
             Israel
             ,
             where
             is
             now
             thy
             warlike
             Fame
             ?
          
           
             How
             will
             thy
             once
             much
             dreaded
             Name
             ,
          
           
             By
             Foes
             so
             often
             vanquish'd
             ,
             be
             despis'd
          
           
             By
             all
             the
             Nations
             of
             th'
             Uncircumcis'd
             ?
          
        
         
           
             Oh
             Ionathan
             ,
             how
             dear
             wert
             thou
             to
             me
             ?
          
           
             How
             dear
             must
             be
             thy
             Memory
             ?
          
           
             No
             Time
             can
             from
             my
             Breast
             remove
          
           
             Thy
             Image
             ,
             or
             thy
             wondrous
             love
             :
          
        
         
           
           
             A
             Love
             ,
             like
             which
             we
             none
             recorded
             find
             ,
          
           
             A
             Love
             surpassing
             that
             of
             Womankind
             .
          
           
             Their
             Love
             was
             ne'er
             so
             tender
             ,
             pure
             and
             strong
             ,
          
           
             And
             never
             lasted
             in
             excess
             so
             long
             .
          
           
             What
             gen'rous
             Friendship
             hast
             thou
             shown
             ,
          
           
             What
             dreadful
             Dangers
             undergone
             ,
          
           
             To
             raise
             thy
             Rival
             to
             thy
             Father's
             Throne
             ?
          
        
         
           
             Kindest
             of
             Brothers
             ,
             my
             afflicted
             Soul
             ,
          
           
             Does
             thy
             unhappy
             Fall
             condole
             .
          
           
             Thy
             suddain
             ,
             thy
             disast'rous
             Fate
             ,
          
           
             Does
             Agonies
             of
             Grief
             create
             .
          
           
             As
             in
             a
             Storm
             ,
             my
             rolling
             Bowels
             move
          
           
             With
             strong
             Convulsive
             Throws
             of
             sad
             ,
             distracted
             Love.
          
           
             I
             would
             the
             highest
             marks
             express
          
           
             Of
             uncontroul'd
             ,
             unmerciful
             distress
             :
          
           
             For
             if
             my
             Grief
             does
             not
             outrageous
             grow
             ,
          
           
             'T
             is
             unbecoming
             my
             unmeasur'd
             Woe
             ,
          
           
             Nothing
             's
             enough
             that
             's
             less
             than
             all
             that
             Love
             can
             show
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           Second
           PSALM
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
        
         
           
             WHat
             means
             this
             mighty
             Uproar
             ?
             whence
             arise
          
           
             This
             great
             Commotion
             ,
             these
             tumultuous
             Crys
             ?
          
           
             What
             has
             alarm'd
             the
             Nations
             ?
             what
             offence
          
           
             Does
             all
             the
             jealous
             States
             around
             incense
             ?
          
           
             What
             does
             the
             Heathen
             Fire
             with
             so
             much
             Rage
             ?
          
           
             What
             
             Iacob's
             Sons
             in
             such
             Designs
             engage
          
           
             As
             they
             can
             ne'er
             effect
             ,
             or
             if
             they
             do
             ,
          
           
             They
             'll
             miss
             the
             end
             they
             furiously
             pursue
             ?
          
           
             Infatuated
             Men
             !
             you
             'll
             sure
             repent
          
           
             Your
             rash
             Attempts
             ,
             too
             late
             the
             sad
             event
          
           
             Will
             show
             your
             Projects
             vain
             ,
             your
             Malice
             impotent
             .
          
           
             Confed'rate
             Princes
             wicked
             Friendship
             make
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             their
             Anger
             desp'rate
             Councels
             take
          
           
             Against
             their
             great
             Creator
             and
             his
             Son
             ,
          
           
             And
             hope
             the
             Lord
             's
             Anointed
             to
             dethrone
             .
          
        
         
           
             Let
             us
             ,
             say
             they
             ,
             assert
             our
             Liberty
             ,
          
           
             And
             keep
             our
             Kingdoms
             from
             Oppression
             free
             .
          
           
             We
             'll
             ne'er
             agree
             to
             vindicate
             the
             Cause
          
           
             Of
             this
             new
             King
             ,
             nor
             e'er
             obey
             his
             Laws
             .
          
           
           
             Th'
             Almighty
             sets
             his
             Fav'rite
             up
             in
             vain
             ,
          
           
             We
             'll
             ne'er
             consent
             to
             this
             Usurper's
             Reign
             .
          
           
             We
             his
             proud
             Yoke
             will
             never
             tamely
             bear
             ,
          
           
             But
             will
             his
             servile
             Chains
             asunder
             tear
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             the
             great
             God
             who
             sits
             enthron'd
             on
             high
             ,
          
           
             Above
             the
             Starry
             Convex
             of
             the
             Sky
             ,
          
           
             Insultingly
             will
             mock
             their
             foolish
             Pride
             ,
          
           
             Laugh
             at
             their
             Threats
             ,
             and
             their
             vain
             Plots
             deride
             .
          
           
             In
             fiery
             Indignation
             ,
             he
             shall
             pass
          
           
             A
             dreadful
             Sentence
             on
             this
             impious
             Race
             .
          
           
             The
             marks
             of
             high
             Displeasure
             he
             shall
             show
             ,
          
           
             And
             pour
             Destruction
             on
             th'
             audacious
             Foe
             .
          
        
         
           
             Thus
             from
             his
             Throne
             sublime
             th'
             Eternal
             spoke
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             his
             awful
             Voice
             the
             Frame
             of
             Nature
             shook
             ,
          
           
             In
             spite
             of
             all
             the
             Princes
             that
             combine
             ,
          
           
             Or
             to
             retard
             ,
             or
             frustrate
             my
             design
             ;
          
           
             On
             
             Sion's
             Hill
             my
             Fav'rite
             I
             'll
             enthrone
             ,
          
           
             And
             fix
             upon
             his
             Head
             th'
             Imperial
             Crown
             .
          
           
             Submissive
             States
             his
             Empire
             shall
             obey
             ,
          
           
             And
             at
             his
             Footstool
             Kings
             their
             Scepters
             lay
             .
          
           
             He
             shall
             Tyrannic
             Cruelty
             correct
             ,
          
           
             And
             tenderly
             his
             Subject's
             Rights
             protect
             .
          
           
             He
             shall
             assert
             Divine
             Religion's
             Cause
             ,
          
           
             Heav'n's
             sacred
             Int'rests
             manage
             with
             Applause
             ,
          
           
             And
             rule
             the
             World
             with
             just
             and
             equal
             Laws
             .
          
           
             To
             execute
             his
             high
             important
             Charge
             ,
          
           
             My
             Viceroy
             I
             invest
             with
             Pow'r
             at
             large
             :
          
           
           
             Vast
             Pow'r
             I
             give
             him
             ,
             but
             I
             give
             him
             none
             ,
          
           
             But
             what
             is
             mixt
             with
             Mercy
             like
             my
             own
             .
          
           
             No
             other
             Pow'r
             ,
             but
             what
             is
             understood
          
           
             To
             be
             intended
             for
             his
             Subjects
             good
             .
          
           
             His
             just
             and
             gentle
             Conduct
             shall
             confess
             ,
          
           
             He
             seeks
             his
             Glory
             in
             their
             Happiness
             .
          
        
         
           
             I
             to
             the
             World
             will
             publish
             thy
             Decree
             ,
          
           
             That
             raises
             me
             to
             Regal
             Dignity
             .
          
           
             Thus
             said
             the
             Lord
             ,
             let
             it
             this
             Day
             be
             known
             ,
          
           
             That
             thou
             art
             my
             begotten
             only
             Son
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             high
             Descent
             let
             all
             the
             Nations
             own
             .
          
           
             Thou
             art
             intitul'd
             by
             thy
             Royal
             Birth
             ,
          
           
             To
             all
             the
             Realms
             and
             Nations
             of
             the
             Earth
             :
          
           
             Make
             thy
             demand
             ,
             and
             by
             my
             Grant
             divine
             ,
          
           
             The
             Pagan
             States
             and
             Kingdoms
             shall
             be
             thine
             .
          
           
             I
             'll
             subject
             all
             the
             spacious
             tracks
             of
             Land
             ,
          
           
             From
             Pole
             to
             Pole
             to
             thy
             supream
             command
             ▪
          
           
             Thou
             shalt
             of
             all
             the
             Regions
             be
             possest
             ,
          
           
             From
             the
             Sun's
             rising
             to
             the
             adverse
             West
             .
          
           
             Only
             the
             limits
             which
             the
             World
             surround
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             Universal
             Monarchy
             shall
             bound
             .
          
           
             Arm'd
             with
             a
             Rod
             of
             Iron
             thou
             shalt
             reign
          
           
             O'er
             proud
             Oppressors
             ,
             and
             their
             Rage
             restrain
             .
          
           
             Thou
             shalt
             in
             pieces
             dash
             ,
             like
             Potters
             Clay
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             stubborn
             Foes
             ,
             who
             insolently
             say
             ,
          
           
             We
             'll
             ne'er
             his
             Title
             own
             ,
             nor
             his
             Commands
             obey
             .
          
        
         
           
             Ye
             foolish
             Kings
             and
             Potentates
             be
             wise
             ,
          
           
             And
             be
             instructed
             where
             your
             Safety
             lies
             .
          
           
           
             The
             Son
             of
             God
             with
             Acclamations
             meet
             ,
          
           
             And
             prostrate
             lye
             adoring
             at
             his
             feet
             .
          
           
             Bow
             down
             your
             Necks
             to
             take
             his
             gentle
             Yoke
             ,
          
           
             Lest
             your
             neglect
             his
             Fury
             should
             provoke
             .
          
           
             If
             you
             refuse
             this
             Monarch
             to
             obey
             ,
          
           
             Be
             sure
             you
             'll
             perish
             in
             your
             wicked
             way
             .
          
           
             For
             if
             his
             Wrath
             so
             dreadful
             does
             appear
             ,
          
           
             When
             scarcely
             kindled
             ,
             what
             have
             you
             to
             fear
          
           
             Who
             by
             your
             desp'rate
             Provocations
             raise
          
           
             The
             Spark
             to
             Flames
             ,
             and
             make
             his
             Fury
             blaze
             ?
          
           
             No
             longer
             your
             Subjection
             then
             delay
             ,
          
           
             The
             safe
             and
             happy
             Men
             are
             only
             they
          
           
             Who
             as
             their
             Refuge
             and
             secure
             Defence
             ,
          
           
             Repose
             in
             him
             their
             Trust
             and
             Confidence
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           CIVth
           PSALM
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
        
         
           
             MY
             grateful
             Soul
             th'
             Almighty's
             Name
             adore
             ;
          
           
             Great
             is
             his
             Being
             ,
             great
             his
             Works
             of
             Pow'r
          
           
             Immortal
             Honours
             ,
             Majesty
             ,
             Renown
             ,
          
           
             And
             Dignity
             Divine
             his
             Temples
             crown
             .
          
           
             His
             Robe
             of
             State
             is
             wrought
             with
             Light
             re●in'd
             ;
          
           
             An
             endless
             Train
             of
             Lustre
             flows
             behind
             .
          
           
             His
             Throne
             's
             of
             massy
             ,
             burnish'd
             Glory
             made
             ,
          
           
             With
             Heav'nly
             Pearl
             ,
             and
             Gems
             Divine
             inlaid
             :
          
           
             Whence
             Floods
             of
             Joy
             ,
             and
             Seas
             of
             Splendour
             flow
             ,
          
           
             On
             all
             th'
             Angelic
             gazing
             Throng
             below
             :
          
           
             Who
             drink
             in
             Pleasures
             by
             their
             ravish'd
             Sight
             ,
          
           
             Delug'd
             in
             vast
             ineffable
             Delight
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             as
             a
             Tent
             the
             Heav'n's
             expansion
             reers
             ,
          
           
             And
             as
             a
             Curtain
             stretches
             out
             the
             Sphears
             .
          
           
             He
             makes
             the
             Mists
             his
             Pillars
             to
             sustain
          
           
             His
             airy
             Rooms
             ,
             and
             lays
             their
             Beams
             in
             Rain
             .
          
           
             The
             Clouds
             th'
             Almighty's
             rolling
             Chariots
             bear
          
           
             Their
             Lord
             thro'
             all
             the
             spacious
             Fields
             of
             Air.
          
           
             He
             harnasses
             the
             manag
             '
             Winds
             ,
             and
             flys
          
           
             On
             their
             swift
             Wings
             to
             visit
             all
             the
             Skys
             .
          
           
           
             The
             various
             Meteors
             of
             the
             Air
             above
          
           
             Wait
             his
             Commands
             ,
             and
             by
             his
             Order
             move
             .
          
           
             Tempests
             and
             Windy
             Vapours
             ,
             rais'd
             on
             high
          
           
             To
             do
             his
             Will
             ,
             like
             Menial
             Servants
             fly
             .
          
           
             Lightnings
             ,
             and
             all
             his
             wildest
             Works
             of
             Fire
             ,
          
           
             His
             Ministers
             ,
             to
             serve
             their
             Lord
             conspire
             .
          
           
             These
             sensless
             Creatures
             such
             Obedience
             shew
          
           
             To
             their
             great
             Master
             ,
             as
             his
             Angels
             do
             .
          
        
         
           
             To
             him
             her
             Father
             ,
             Nature
             owes
             her
             Birth
             ,
          
           
             He
             laid
             the
             deep
             Foundations
             of
             the
             Earth
             .
          
           
             He
             hung
             the
             pondrous
             heap
             in
             fluid
             Air
             ,
          
           
             And
             made
             its
             weight
             it
             s
             own
             Supporter
             there
             .
          
           
             Then
             he
             the
             Waters
             o'er
             its
             Bosom
             roll'd
             ;
          
           
             And
             liquid
             Garments
             did
             the
             Earth
             enfold
             .
          
           
             The
             Rocks
             and
             Hills
             conceal'd
             in
             Billows
             stood
             ,
          
           
             And
             o'er
             the
             Mountains
             tops
             the
             Deluge
             rais'd
             its
             Flood
             .
          
           
             God's
             great
             Command
             chastis'd
             the
             Water's
             Pride
             ,
          
           
             He
             bad
             the
             Flood
             call
             down
             its
             tow'ring
             Tide
             ,
          
           
             And
             strait
             the
             ebbing
             Deluge
             did
             subside
             .
          
           
             Th'
             Almighty
             form'd
             a
             vast
             capacious
             Deep
             ,
          
           
             Where
             he
             his
             Watry
             Regiments
             might
             keep
             :
          
           
             The
             waves
             file
             off
             ,
             and
             thither
             make
             their
             way
             ,
          
           
             To
             form
             the
             mighty
             Body
             of
             the
             Sea.
          
           
             Where
             they
             encamp
             ,
             and
             in
             their
             Stations
             stand
             ,
          
           
             Entrench'd
             in
             Works
             of
             Rock
             and
             Lines
             of
             Sand.
             
          
        
         
           
             Yet
             some
             Deserters
             still
             the
             Sea
             forsake
             ,
          
           
             And
             from
             their
             Posts
             by
             stealth
             Excursions
             make
             .
          
           
           
             The
             Sun
             to
             some
             lets
             down
             his
             helping
             Ray
             ,
          
           
             They
             climb
             the
             golden
             Line
             ,
             and
             thus
             convey
          
           
             Themselves
             in
             Vapours
             high
             amidst
             the
             Air
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             the
             Hills
             aspiring
             heads
             repair
             .
          
           
             Others
             by
             secret
             Channels
             from
             the
             Deep
          
           
             Pass
             undiscern'd
             ,
             and
             up
             the
             Mountains
             creep
             :
          
           
             Whence
             gushing
             out
             in
             Springs
             they
             downward
             flow
             .
          
           
             And
             thro'
             the
             flowry
             Vales
             back
             to
             the
             Ocean
             go
             .
          
        
         
           
             While
             God
             in
             Prison
             holds
             the
             mighty
             Deep
             ,
          
           
             And
             does
             in
             rocky
             Chains
             the
             raging
             Monster
             keep
             ,
          
           
             That
             it
             may
             ne'er
             surmount
             the
             ambient
             Shore
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             its
             Flood
             may
             drown
             the
             Earth
             no
             more
             ,
          
           
             He
             to
             refresh
             ,
             and
             cloath
             the
             Meads
             with
             Grass
             ,
          
           
             Bids
             all
             his
             Rivers
             thro'
             the
             Vallys
             pass
             .
          
           
             Kindly
             their
             course
             th'
             indented
             Banks
             restrain
             ,
          
           
             Kindly
             the
             Hills
             retard
             their
             gliding
             train
             .
          
           
             For
             thus
             the
             ling'ring
             Streams
             at
             leisure
             flow
             ,
          
           
             And
             greater
             Riches
             on
             the
             Fields
             bestow
             .
          
           
             Beasts
             tame
             and
             salvage
             to
             the
             River's
             brink
             ,
          
           
             Come
             from
             the
             Fields
             and
             Wilderness
             to
             drink
             .
          
           
             Thither
             the
             feather'd
             Singers
             of
             the
             Air
             ,
          
           
             To
             quench
             their
             thirst
             and
             prune
             their
             Wings
             ,
             repair
             .
          
           
             Then
             midst
             the
             Willows
             that
             adorn
             the
             Flood
             ,
          
           
             Or
             on
             the
             Branches
             in
             some
             neighb'ring
             Wood
             ,
          
           
             The
             painted
             Heralds
             in
             melodious
             Lays
             ,
          
           
             Proclaim
             their
             gracious
             Benefactor
             's
             Praise
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             from
             his
             high
             Aerial
             Chambers
             ,
             where
          
           
             Th'
             Almighty
             Chymist
             does
             his
             Works
             prepare
             ,
             
             
             
             
          
           
           
             Digests
             his
             Lightnings
             ,
             and
             distills
             his
             Rain
             ,
          
           
             Pours
             down
             his
             Waters
             on
             the
             thirsty
             Plain
             .
          
           
             He
             sends
             refreshing
             Showers
             to
             cheer
             the
             Hills
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             his
             Bounty
             all
             the
             Vally
             fills
             ;
          
           
             The
             Earth
             made
             fruitful
             with
             his
             Heav'nly
             drops
             ,
          
           
             With
             a
             rich
             Harvest
             crowns
             the
             Farmer
             's
             Hopes
             .
          
           
             He
             does
             the
             Fields
             his
             open
             Table
             spred
             ,
          
           
             Where
             all
             the
             Beasts
             with
             grassy
             Meat
             are
             fed
             .
          
           
             He
             Plants
             ,
             for
             Food
             and
             Physic
             does
             produce
          
           
             Thro'
             all
             the
             Earth
             ,
             for
             Man
             his
             Viceroys
             use
             .
          
           
             He
             pours
             from
             Heav'n
             his
             Rain
             upon
             the
             Vine
             ,
          
           
             And
             thus
             converts
             the
             Water
             into
             Wine
             .
          
           
             Which
             does
             revive
             Man's
             Heart
             ,
             his
             Cares
             relieve
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             his
             Face
             a
             better
             Lustre
             give
             ,
          
           
             Than
             when
             with
             Oyl
             it
             does
             anointed
             shine
             ,
          
           
             With
             Oyl
             ,
             another
             noble
             Gift
             Divine
             .
          
           
             He
             fills
             the
             teeming
             Glebe
             with
             Crops
             of
             Corn
             ,
          
           
             Which
             cloath
             the
             Vallys
             ,
             and
             the
             Hills
             adorn
             .
          
           
             The
             Staff
             of
             Humane
             Life
             at
             his
             Command
             ,
          
           
             Springs
             from
             the
             Furrows
             of
             the
             fruitful
             Land.
             
          
        
         
           
             He
             from
             the
             Clouds
             does
             the
             sweet
             Liquor
             squeeze
             ,
          
           
             Which
             cheers
             the
             Forests
             and
             the
             Garden
             Trees
             ,
          
           
             With
             the
             rich
             Juice
             he
             feeds
             their
             thirsty
             root
             ,
          
           
             Which
             fills
             their
             Limbs
             with
             Sap
             ,
             their
             Heads
             with
             Fruit.
          
           
             To
             this
             the
             Cedars
             that
             adorn
             the
             Brow
          
           
             Of
             Lebanon
             ,
             their
             Height
             and
             Beauty
             owe.
          
           
             The
             Firs
             too
             thrive
             by
             drops
             from
             Heav'n
             distill'd
             ,
          
           
             In
             which
             the
             Storks
             their
             Airy
             Houses
             build
             .
          
           
           
             The
             Mountains
             reer'd
             their
             Heads
             at
             his
             Command
             ,
          
           
             And
             Pillars
             to
             his
             Praise
             erected
             stand
             :
          
           
             In
             these
             ,
             and
             in
             the
             Rocks
             ,
             the
             salvage
             Kind
             ,
          
           
             From
             the
             pursuer's
             Arms
             safe
             Refuge
             find
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             form'd
             the
             Moon
             the
             Seasons
             to
             divide
             ,
          
           
             And
             gave
             it
             Empire
             o'er
             the
             Ocean's
             tide
             .
          
           
             The
             Sun
             he
             burnish'd
             ,
             till
             its
             Orb
             became
          
           
             A
             Spring
             of
             Light
             ,
             and
             undecaying
             Flame
             .
          
           
             Which
             knows
             the
             Stages
             of
             its
             heav'nly
             way
             ,
          
           
             And
             does
             by
             turns
             roll
             up
             ,
             by
             turns
             display
          
           
             The
             wide
             and
             bright
             expansion
             of
             the
             Day
             .
          
           
             'T
             is
             God
             who
             made
             the
             Day
             ,
             that
             makes
             the
             Night
             ,
          
           
             He
             in
             the
             Air
             to
             suffocate
             the
             Light
             ,
          
           
             Does
             from
             his
             open'd
             Stores
             of
             Darkness
             let
          
           
             A
             gloomy
             Deluge
             out
             of
             liquid
             Jet
             .
          
           
             He
             wipes
             the
             Colours
             off
             from
             Nature's
             Face
             ,
          
           
             And
             lays
             on
             Night's
             deep
             Shadows
             in
             their
             place
             .
          
           
             Now
             the
             wild
             Beasts
             by
             Hunger
             bit
             awake
             ,
          
           
             And
             from
             their
             drowsy
             Eyes
             their
             Slumber
             shake
             .
          
           
             From
             out
             their
             Dens
             the
             Spoilers
             yawning
             come
             ,
          
           
             The
             Forests
             Range
             ,
             and
             o'er
             the
             Mountains
             roam
             .
          
           
             Young
             rav'ning
             Lyons
             from
             the
             Woods
             retreat
             ,
          
           
             Roar
             out
             to
             Heav'n
             ,
             and
             beg
             from
             God
             their
             Meat
             .
          
           
             They
             on
             his
             Providential
             Care
             rely
             ,
          
           
             Who
             does
             his
             Creatures
             various
             Wants
             supply
             .
          
           
             But
             when
             with
             his
             reviving
             Morning
             Ray
          
           
             The
             rising
             Sun
             regenerates
             the
             Day
             ,
          
           
             They
             to
             their
             Dens
             retire
             with
             Toil
             opprest
             ,
          
           
             Stretch
             out
             their
             weary
             Limbs
             ,
             and
             take
             their
             rest
             .
          
           
           
             But
             Man
             goes
             forth
             to
             labour
             in
             the
             Morn
             ,
          
           
             When
             the
             tir'd
             Lyon
             does
             from
             his
             return
             .
          
        
         
           
             God's
             Works
             of
             Pow'r
             our
             Wonder
             ,
             and
             his
             Praise
          
           
             Thro'
             all
             the
             World
             his
             Works
             of
             Goodness
             raise
             .
          
           
             To
             form
             the
             Sea
             he
             drew
             his
             Compass
             round
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             the
             mark
             it
             left
             describ'd
             the
             ground
             :
          
           
             Then
             dug
             th'
             unfathom'd
             Hollow
             ,
             which
             the
             Main
          
           
             And
             all
             the
             Floods
             and
             Rivers
             might
             contain
             .
          
           
             So
             populous
             these
             watry
             Regions
             are
             ,
          
           
             That
             Nations
             numberless
             inhabit
             there
             .
          
           
             Mute
             Nations
             that
             are
             here
             supply'd
             with
             Food
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             Finny
             Wings
             divide
             the
             crystal
             Flood
             .
          
           
             Here
             't
             is
             the
             Ships
             along
             the
             yielding
             Tide
             ,
          
           
             Before
             the
             Wind
             upon
             their
             Bellys
             glide
             .
          
           
             The
             Whale
             ,
             the
             Soveraign
             that
             the
             Sea
             controlls
             ,
          
           
             Here
             takes
             his
             Pleasure
             ,
             and
             in
             Pastime
             rolls
             .
          
           
             He
             plays
             ,
             and
             tumbles
             in
             his
             Watry
             Court
             ,
          
           
             And
             troubles
             all
             the
             Ocean
             with
             his
             Sport.
          
           
             He
             makes
             his
             Spouts
             for
             his
             Diversion
             play
             ,
          
           
             And
             toss
             against
             the
             Clouds
             th'
             uplifted
             Sea.
          
           
             Projected
             Billows
             from
             his
             Nostrils
             rise
             ,
          
           
             And
             mix
             the
             Ocean
             with
             th'
             astonish'd
             Skys
             .
          
           
             This
             mighty
             Monster
             who
             does
             Monarch
             reign
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             the
             Nations
             that
             possess
             the
             Main
             ;
          
           
             All
             creeping
             Creatures
             ,
             Herds
             and
             harmless
             Flocks
             ,
          
           
             All
             Beasts
             that
             range
             the
             Woods
             ,
             or
             hide
             in
             Rocks
             ,
          
           
             All
             Passengers
             that
             beat
             th'
             Etherial
             Road
          
           
             With
             feather'd
             Wings
             ,
             wait
             for
             their
             Meat
             from
             God.
          
           
           
             At
             his
             expence
             they
             eat
             ,
             by
             various
             ways
          
           
             He
             for
             his
             numerous
             Family
             purveys
             .
          
           
             His
             open'd
             Hand
             dispences
             fresh
             supplys
             ,
          
           
             That
             more
             than
             all
             his
             Creatures
             Wants
             suffice
             .
          
        
         
           
             To
             substitute
             Successors
             in
             the
             place
          
           
             Of
             those
             that
             perish
             ,
             and
             to
             save
             the
             Race
          
           
             And
             Kind
             of
             every
             living
             Creature
             ,
             God
          
           
             Does
             his
             prolific
             Spirit
             send
             abroad
             ;
          
           
             Which
             thro'
             the
             Earth
             does
             quick'ning
             Pow'r
             diffuse
             ,
          
           
             And
             Heat
             ,
             which
             fresh
             Productions
             there
             produce
             .
          
           
             Since
             on
             the
             Earth
             th'
             Almighty
             does
             dispence
          
           
             Th'
             unnumber'd
             Blessings
             of
             his
             Providence
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             his
             Favours
             has
             all
             Nature
             crown'd
             ,
          
           
             Let
             all
             the
             World
             with
             Songs
             of
             Joy
             resound
             .
          
           
             Let
             Men
             for
             ever
             bless
             his
             glorious
             Name
             ,
          
           
             Recite
             his
             Wonders
             ,
             and
             his
             Praise
             proclaim
             .
          
           
             If
             stupid
             Man
             this
             Tribute
             should
             neglect
             ,
          
           
             His
             God
             th'
             ungrateful
             Wretch
             can
             soon
             correct
             .
          
           
             If
             on
             the
             Earth
             he
             does
             in
             Anger
             look
             ,
          
           
             It
             trembles
             at
             the
             terrible
             Rebuke
             .
          
           
             It
             from
             its
             strong
             Foundations
             starts
             for
             fear
             ,
          
           
             And
             twisting
             Gripes
             its
             working
             Entrails
             tear
             .
          
           
             The
             Mountains
             shiver
             ,
             and
             their
             Heads
             incline
          
           
             At
             the
             reproof
             of
             Majesty
             Divine
             .
          
           
             The
             Hills
             forget
             they
             're
             fixt
             ,
             and
             in
             their
             fright
          
           
             Of
             all
             their
             weight
             they
             strip
             themselves
             for
             flight
             .
          
           
             The
             Rocks
             from
             off
             their
             Marble
             Pillars
             break
             ,
          
           
             And
             which
             they
             us'd
             to
             give
             ,
             a
             Refuge
             seek
             .
          
           
           
             The
             Woods
             with
             Terror
             wing'd
             outstrip
             the
             Wind
             ,
          
           
             And
             leave
             the
             heavy
             ,
             panting
             Hills
             behind
             .
          
           
             All
             Nature
             troubled
             and
             in
             deep
             distress
             ,
          
           
             Of
             God's
             Displeasure
             does
             her
             Fear
             express
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             I
             ,
             whatever
             others
             do
             ,
             will
             sing
          
           
             The
             due
             Applauses
             of
             th'
             Eternal
             King.
          
           
             With
             pleasure
             I
             'll
             contemplate
             ,
             all
             my
             days
          
           
             His
             wondrous
             Works
             ,
             and
             wondrous
             Goodness
             praise
             .
          
           
             And
             let
             obd●●ate
             Sinners
             ,
             who
             refuse
          
           
             To
             give
             him
             Glory
             ,
             and
             his
             Gifts
             abuse
             ,
          
           
             Be
             from
             the
             Earth
             ,
             as
             they
             deserve
             ,
             destroy'd
             ,
          
           
             While
             ,
             thou
             my
             Soul
             ,
             art
             in
             his
             Praise
             employ'd
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           CXIVth
           PSALM
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
        
         
           
             WHen
             God
             a
             thousand
             Miracles
             had
             wrought
             ,
          
           
             The
             fav'rite
             Tribes
             Deliv'rance
             to
             promote
             ,
          
           
             And
             marching
             on
             in
             Triumph
             at
             their
             head
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Host
             to
             promis'd
             Canaan
             led
             ;
          
           
             Then
             ,
             Iacob
             ,
             was
             thy
             rescu'd
             Race
             ,
          
           
             Distinguish'd
             by
             peculiar
             marks
             of
             Grace
             .
          
           
             Their
             Happiness
             and
             Honour
             to
             advance
             ,
          
           
             He
             chose
             them
             for
             his
             own
             Inheritance
             .
          
           
             With
             whom
             alone
             their
             gracious
             God
          
           
             Would
             make
             his
             Residence
             ,
             and
             blest
             abode
             .
          
           
             They
             were
             from
             Heav'n
             instructed
             to
             adore
          
           
             Their
             God
             ,
             and
             with
             Celestial
             Light
             ,
          
           
             Canaan
             was
             blest
             ,
             as
             Goshen
             was
             before
             ,
          
           
             While
             all
             their
             Neighbours
             lay
             involv'd
             in
             Night
             .
          
           
             God
             the
             Foundations
             of
             their
             Empire
             laid
             ,
          
           
             The
             Model
             of
             their
             Constitution
             made
             :
          
           
             He
             on
             their
             Throne
             their
             King
             in
             Person
             sate
             ,
          
           
             And
             rul'd
             with
             equal
             Laws
             the
             Sacred
             State.
             
          
        
         
           
             For
             this
             blest
             purpose
             
             Iacob's
             Seed
          
           
             Was
             from
             Egyptian
             Bondage
             freed
             ,
          
           
           
             When
             God
             to
             do
             this
             wondrous
             work
             was
             pleas'd
             ,
          
           
             Great
             Consternation
             Nature
             seiz'd
             .
          
           
             The
             restif
             Floods
             refus'd
             to
             flow
             ,
          
           
             Panting
             with
             Fear
             the
             Winds
             could
             find
             no
             Breath
             to
             blow
             .
          
           
             Th'
             astonish'd
             Sea
             did
             motionless
             become
             ,
          
           
             Horror
             its
             Waters
             did
             benumb
             .
          
           
             The
             briny
             Waves
             that
             reer'd
             themselves
             to
             see
          
           
             Th'
             Almighty's
             Judgments
             ,
             and
             his
             Majesty
             ,
          
           
             With
             Terror
             crystaliz'd
             began
             to
             halt
             ,
          
           
             Then
             Pillars
             grew
             ,
             and
             Rocks
             of
             Salt.
             
          
        
         
           
             Iordan
             as
             soon
             as
             this
             great
             Deed
             it
             saw
             ,
          
           
             Struck
             with
             a
             reverential
             Aw
          
           
             Started
             ,
             and
             with
             Precipitation
             fled
             ,
          
           
             In
             hast
             the
             thronging
             Waves
             ran
             backward
             to
             their
             Head.
             
          
        
         
           
             Vast
             Hills
             were
             mov'd
             from
             out
             their
             place
             ,
          
           
             Terror
             the
             Mountains
             did
             constrain
          
           
             To
             lift
             themselves
             from
             off
             their
             Base
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             their
             rocky
             Roots
             to
             dance
             about
             the
             Plain
             .
          
           
             The
             little
             Hills
             astonish'd
             at
             the
             Sight
             ,
          
           
             Flew
             to
             the
             Mother
             Mountains
             in
             a
             fright
             ,
          
           
             And
             did
             about
             them
             skip
             ,
             as
             Lambs
          
           
             Run
             to
             ,
             and
             bleat
             around
             their
             trembling
             Dams
             .
          
           
             What
             ail'd
             thee
             ,
             O
             thou
             troubled
             Sea
             ,
          
           
             That
             thou
             with
             all
             thy
             watry
             Troops
             didst
             flee
             ?
          
           
             What
             ail'd
             thee
             ,
             Iordan
             ?
             tell
             the
             cause
          
           
             That
             made
             thy
             Flood
             break
             Nature's
             Laws
             :
          
           
           
             Thy
             Course
             thou
             didst
             not
             only
             stop
             ,
          
           
             And
             roll
             thy
             liquid
             Volumes
             up
             ,
          
           
             But
             didst
             ev'n
             backward
             flow
             ,
             to
             hide
             ,
          
           
             Within
             thy
             Fountain's
             Head
             thy
             refluent
             Tyde
             .
          
        
         
           
             What
             did
             the
             lofty
             Mountains
             ail
             ?
          
           
             What
             Pangs
             of
             Fear
             did
             all
             the
             Hills
             assail
          
           
             That
             they
             their
             Station
             could
             not
             keep
             ,
          
           
             But
             scar'd
             with
             danger
             run
             ,
             like
             tim'rous
             scatter'd
             Sheep
             ?
          
        
         
           
             But
             why
             do
             I
             demand
             a
             Cause
          
           
             Of
             your
             Amazement
             ,
             which
             deserves
             Applause
             ?
          
           
             Yours
             was
             a
             just
             becoming
             Fear
             ,
          
           
             For
             when
             th'
             Almighty
             does
             appear
             ,
          
           
             Not
             only
             you
             ,
             but
             the
             whole
             Earth
             should
             quake
             ,
          
           
             And
             out
             of
             Rev'rence
             should
             its
             place
             forsake
             .
          
           
             For
             he
             is
             Nature's
             Sov'raign
             Lord
             ,
          
           
             Who
             by
             his
             great
             commanding
             Word
             ,
          
           
             Can
             make
             the
             Floods
             to
             solid
             Crystal
             grow
             ,
          
           
             Or
             melt
             the
             Rocks
             ,
             and
             make
             their
             Marble
             flow
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
         
           THE
           CXLVIII
           PSALM
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
        
         
           
             YE
             bright
             ,
             Immortal
             Colonys
             ,
          
           
             That
             People
             all
             the
             Regions
             of
             the
             Skys
             ,
          
           
             That
             in
             your
             blissful
             Seats
             above
          
           
             Inhabit
             Glory
             ,
             dwell
             in
             Light
             and
             Love
             :
          
           
             Ye
             mighty
             Gen'rals
             ,
             who
             command
          
           
             Th'
             Almighty's
             Host
             ,
             ye
             Ministers
             that
             stand
          
           
             In
             his
             blest
             Presence
             to
             receive
          
           
             What
             Orders
             he
             is
             pleas'd
             to
             give
             :
          
           
             Ye
             Guards
             and
             Houshold
             Servants
             who
             resort
          
           
             To
             pay
             attendance
             at
             his
             Court
             :
          
           
             Ye
             Saints
             and
             Seraphs
             who
             astonish'd
             see
          
           
             His
             Greatness
             ,
             and
             essential
             Majesty
             :
          
           
             Tune
             your
             Celestial
             Harps
             ,
             and
             sing
          
           
             The
             Triumphs
             of
             th'
             Eternal
             King.
          
           
             All
             ye
             his
             Heav'nly
             Hosts
             applaud
          
           
             In
             long
             continu'd
             Shouts
             your
             wonder-working
             God.
             
          
        
         
           
             Ye
             Sun
             and
             Moon
             and
             Stars
             ,
             that
             grace
             the
             Night
             ,
          
           
             Praise
             him
             the
             unexhausted
             Spring
             of
             Light
             ,
          
           
             Whence
             your
             dependent
             Influence
             streams
             ,
          
           
             Whence
             you
             derive
             your
             delegated
             Beams
             .
          
           
           
             Exalt
             his
             Name
             ,
             and
             spread
             his
             Praise
          
           
             As
             far
             as
             you
             diffuse
             your
             Rays
             .
          
           
             Let
             all
             the
             glorious
             Worlds
             above
             agree
          
           
             In
             this
             Celestial
             Harmony
             :
          
           
             And
             let
             the
             dancing
             ,
             ecchoing
             Sphears
             around
          
           
             Reverberate
             the
             Joy
             ,
             and
             propagate
             the
             sound
             .
          
        
         
           
             Ye
             thin
             transparent
             Regions
             of
             the
             Air
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             ye
             flying
             Nations
             there
          
           
             With
             one
             melodious
             Voice
             th'
             Eternals
             Praise
             declare
             .
          
        
         
           
             Let
             Tempests
             with
             their
             stormy
             Noise
             ,
          
           
             And
             Thunder
             with
             its
             roaring
             Voice
             ,
          
           
             God's
             own
             Artillery
             ,
             proclaim
          
           
             Thro'
             all
             the
             list'ning
             World
             th'
             Eternal's
             Fame
             .
          
           
             From
             ev'ry
             Quarter
             all
             ye
             Winds
             arise
             ,
          
           
             On
             whose
             swift
             Wings
             th'
             Almighty
             flys
             ,
          
           
             When
             he
             his
             Progress
             makes
             into
             th'
             inferiour
             Skys
             .
          
           
             Blow
             all
             your
             Blasts
             ,
             and
             all
             your
             Breath
             employ
          
           
             In
             loud
             Applauses
             ,
             and
             in
             Songs
             of
             Joy.
             
          
        
         
           
             Ye
             Vapours
             that
             by
             God's
             Command
             arise
             ,
          
           
             To
             fill
             Heav'n's
             Magazines
             with
             fresh
             Supplys
             ,
          
           
             And
             for
             the
             Meteors
             new
             Materials
             bring
             ,
          
           
             As
             you
             ascend
             to
             Heav'n
             ,
             th'
             Eternal's
             Praises
             sing
             .
          
           
             Ye
             Clouds
             that
             by
             pursuing
             Winds
             are
             driv'n
             ,
          
           
             Pour
             with
             your
             Rain
             your
             Praises
             forth
             ,
          
           
             Let
             these
             ascend
             ,
             as
             high
             as
             Heav'n
             ,
          
           
             As
             that
             descends
             to
             bless
             the
             Earth
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             Praise
             the
             Divine
             Artificer
             ,
          
           
             Ye
             Lightnings
             ,
             which
             his
             Hands
             prepare
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             ye
             curious
             Fireworks
             of
             the
             Air.
          
           
             Praise
             him
             ye
             other
             Meteors
             of
             the
             Sky
             ,
          
           
             Ye
             Hailstones
             ,
             Mists
             and
             Woolly
             Snow
             ,
          
           
             The
             Manufactures
             which
             he
             works
             on
             high
             ,
          
           
             For
             Nature's
             Service
             here
             below
             .
          
        
         
           
             Let
             Nature's
             mighty
             Sov'raign
             Lord
             ,
          
           
             Be
             by
             the
             Deep
             ,
             and
             all
             the
             Floods
             ador'd
             .
          
           
             In
             Consort
             let
             the
             Billows
             roar
             ,
          
           
             And
             make
             his
             Praise
             rebound
             from
             Shore
             to
             Shore
             .
          
           
             Let
             the
             scaly
             People
             dance
          
           
             Before
             'em
             let
             their
             Lords
             ,
             the
             mighty
             Whales
             advance
             :
          
           
             And
             high
             amidst
             the
             Air
             on
             this
             great
             Day
          
           
             Let
             all
             the
             Waterworks
             from
             their
             vast
             Nostrils
             play
             .
          
        
         
           
             And
             while
             the
             Deep
             ,
             the
             Air
             and
             Sky
             ,
          
           
             Vocal
             become
             th'
             Almighty's
             Name
             to
             raise
             ,
          
           
             Let
             not
             the
             Earth
             stand
             silent
             by
             ,
          
           
             But
             joyn
             to
             celebrate
             his
             Praise
             .
          
           
             Ye
             Dragons
             ,
             Wolves
             ,
             and
             all
             ye
             salvage
             Kind
          
           
             On
             ecchoing
             Hills
             in
             Consort
             joyn'd
             ,
          
           
             To
             him
             your
             Adoration
             pay
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             Bounty
             in
             the
             Desart
             finds
             you
             Prey
             .
          
           
             Do
             you
             your
             Gratitude
             express
             ,
          
           
             And
             make
             his
             Praises
             ring
             thro'
             all
             the
             Wilderness
             .
          
           
             Ye
             Pines
             and
             Cedars
             tune
             your selves
             to
             play
          
           
             Th'
             Almighty's
             Praises
             on
             this
             solemn
             Day
             .
          
           
           
             And
             sing
             ye
             Mountains
             ,
             Hills
             ,
             and
             Floods
             ,
          
           
             To
             th'
             Instrumental
             Music
             of
             the
             Woods
             .
          
        
         
           
             Ye
             Kings
             ,
             the
             King
             of
             Kings
             adore
             ,
          
           
             And
             at
             his
             Feet
             your
             borrow'd
             Scepters
             lay
             ,
          
           
             Applaud
             the
             Spring
             of
             all
             Imperial
             Pow'r
             ,
          
           
             You
             're
             here
             but
             Subjects
             ,
             and
             should
             Homage
             pay
             .
          
           
             Let
             Songs
             of
             Praise
             the
             Gratitude
             attest
          
           
             Of
             Aged
             Men
             ,
             long
             by
             his
             Favours
             blest
             .
          
           
             Let
             rapt'rous
             Zeal
             Young
             Men
             and
             Maids
             inflame
             ,
          
           
             To
             celebrate
             their
             Maker's
             Fame
             ,
          
           
             Let
             lisping
             Infants
             at
             his
             Praises
             aim
             .
          
           
             Let
             all
             th'
             Eternal's
             Works
             conspire
          
           
             To
             execute
             this
             blest
             design
             ,
          
           
             To
             praise
             him
             let
             them
             all
             combine
             ,
          
           
             And
             make
             the
             World
             one
             Universal
             Quire.
             
          
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           Song
           of
           MOSES
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
           DEUT.
           Chap.
           32.
           
        
         
           
             ATtend
             ,
             O
             Heav'ns
             ,
             and
             you
             Empyreal
             Sphears
          
           
             Did
             you
             possess
             as
             many
             list'ning
             Ears
             ,
          
           
             As
             Starry
             Eyes
             ,
             all
             ,
             as
             you
             roll
             along
             ,
          
           
             Should
             be
             employ'd
             to
             hear
             my
             following
             Song
             .
          
           
             To
             my
             important
             words
             a
             while
             attend
             ,
          
           
             And
             back
             my
             Notes
             in
             tuneful
             Ecchoes
             send
             .
          
           
             Peace
             ,
             ye
             tumultuous
             Waters
             of
             the
             Deep
             ,
          
           
             A
             while
             ye
             yelling
             Monsters
             silence
             keep
             ,
          
           
             And
             let
             the
             Billows
             roll
             ,
             and
             rock
             themselves
             asleep
             .
          
           
             Be
             still
             ,
             ye
             Earthquakes
             ,
             in
             the
             Caves
             beneath
             ,
          
           
             Ye
             Winds
             be
             husht
             ,
             and
             stop
             your
             stormy
             Breath
             .
          
           
             Thunders
             ,
             your
             bellowing
             ,
             deaf'ning
             Noise
             forbear
             ,
          
           
             Tempests
             be
             gone
             ,
             and
             leave
             in
             Peace
             the
             Air
             ;
          
           
             That
             so
             the
             quiet
             Earth
             ,
             and
             Air
             ,
             and
             Sea
             ,
          
           
             Without
             disturbance
             may
             attention
             pay
             ,
          
           
             Whilst
             I
             th'
             Almighty's
             wondrous
             Deeds
             display
             .
          
        
         
           
             And
             let
             not
             my
             Divine
             Discourse
             be
             vain
             ,
          
           
             Let
             it
             distill
             as
             Dew
             ,
             and
             drop
             as
             Rain
             ,
          
           
           
             That
             in
             their
             grassy
             Garments
             cloaths
             the
             Hills
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             rich
             Fruits
             the
             smiling
             Vally
             fills
             .
          
           
             Whilst
             I
             to
             all
             the
             World
             aloud
             proclaim
          
           
             His
             Majesty
             ,
             his
             great
             and
             awful
             Name
             ,
          
           
             Whilst
             I
             his
             Triumphs
             sing
             ,
             ye
             Tribes
             ,
             do
             you
          
           
             To
             God
             ascribe
             the
             Pow'r
             and
             Glory
             due
             .
          
        
         
           
             God
             is
             a
             Rock
             unchang'd
             by
             Ages
             past
             ,
          
           
             And
             by
             the
             future
             shall
             unshaken
             last
             .
          
           
             Perfect
             are
             all
             his
             Works
             ,
             and
             all
             his
             Ways
             ;
          
           
             From
             Truth
             's
             Eternal
             Rule
             he
             never
             strays
             .
          
           
             Upright
             and
             Equal
             all
             his
             Acts
             appear
             ,
          
           
             He
             's
             just
             ,
             when
             kind
             ,
             and
             gracious
             ,
             when
             severe
             .
          
           
             Therefore
             ,
             ye
             Sons
             of
             Iacob
             ,
             be
             it
             known
          
           
             On
             your
             own
             heads
             you
             've
             pull'd
             Destruction
             down
             .
          
           
             Your
             black
             Offences
             have
             incens'd
             your
             God
             ,
          
           
             And
             forc'd
             his
             hand
             to
             take
             his
             vengeful
             Rod.
          
           
             Say
             not
             that
             yours
             ,
             the
             Faults
             of
             Children
             are
             ,
          
           
             Which
             a
             kind
             Father
             is
             induc'd
             to
             spare
             :
          
           
             Your
             Crimson
             Spots
             ,
             your
             foul
             and
             loathsome
             stains
          
           
             Tell
             the
             rank
             Poison
             that
             infects
             your
             Veins
             .
          
           
             Your
             unexampled
             Contumacy
             shows
          
           
             You
             are
             not
             Children
             ,
             but
             invet'rate
             Foes
             .
          
           
             Th'
             Almighty's
             Goodness
             do
             you
             thus
             despise
             ,
          
           
             Ah
             foolish
             Generation
             and
             unwise
             !
          
           
             Your
             Great
             Deliverer
             do
             you
             thus
             requite
             ?
          
           
             His
             Pow'r
             and
             Mercy
             thus
             perversly
             slight
             ?
          
           
             You
             by
             a
             vast
             expence
             of
             Wonders
             bought
             ,
          
           
             He
             from
             your
             Bondage
             back
             from
             Egypt
             brought
             .
          
           
           
             He
             then
             advanc'd
             you
             to
             Imperial
             Sway
             ,
          
           
             And
             made
             the
             Pagan
             Kings
             your
             Laws
             obey
             .
          
           
             From
             all
             Mankind
             he
             chose
             you
             for
             his
             own
             ,
          
           
             And
             did
             your
             Sons
             with
             Pow'r
             and
             Plenty
             crown
             .
          
           
             Consult
             our
             antient
             Fathers
             ,
             to
             the
             source
          
           
             Of
             our
             recorded
             Story
             have
             recourse
             :
          
           
             You
             'll
             find
             when
             God
             did
             with
             a
             lib'ral
             hand
          
           
             Among
             the
             Nations
             give
             the
             parted
             Land
             ,
          
           
             He
             Canaan's
             happy
             Region
             did
             divide
             ,
          
           
             Where
             
             Iacob's
             Offspring
             should
             at
             last
             reside
             .
          
           
             He
             from
             the
             Pagan
             did
             his
             People
             bound
             ,
          
           
             And
             for
             himself
             fenc'd
             this
             Inclosure
             round
             ,
          
           
             And
             blest
             with
             his
             Abode
             the
             sacred
             Ground
             .
          
           
             To
             Wealth
             and
             Pow'r
             he
             Israel
             did
             advance
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             his
             Gifts
             enrich'd
             his
             own
             Inheritance
             .
          
        
         
           
             To
             seek
             out
             Iacob
             he
             the
             Desart
             past
             ,
          
           
             And
             found
             him
             in
             a
             lonesome
             yelling
             Wast
             ,
          
           
             With
             pain
             and
             want
             ,
             and
             servile
             Chains
             opprest
             ,
          
           
             A
             Prey
             to
             every
             fierce
             Egyptian
             Beast
             .
          
           
             God
             with
             Compassion
             mov'd
             to
             such
             distress
             ,
          
           
             Led
             the
             lost
             Stranger
             thro'
             the
             Wilderness
             .
          
           
             He
             shielded
             him
             with
             his
             resistless
             Might
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             direct
             him
             to
             proceed
             aright
             ,
          
           
             He
             on
             his
             Mind
             diffus'd
             his
             Heav'nly
             Light.
          
           
             He
             did
             his
             Wants
             and
             Pleasures
             too
             supply
             ,
          
           
             And
             kept
             him
             as
             the
             Apple
             of
             his
             Eye
             .
          
           
             See
             as
             an
             Eagle
             o'er
             her
             young
             ones
             flys
             ,
          
           
             Spreads
             out
             her
             Wings
             ,
             and
             flutters
             in
             the
             Skys
             .
          
           
           
             How
             from
             their
             Nest
             she
             does
             her
             Offspring
             bear
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Courage
             to
             provoke
             ,
             and
             make
             'em
             dare
          
           
             To
             try
             their
             Wings
             ,
             and
             trust
             themselves
             in
             Air
             :
          
           
             So
             did
             th'
             Almighty
             
             Iacob's
             Sons
             excite
             ,
          
           
             From
             Egypt's
             Prisons
             to
             attempt
             their
             flight
             :
          
           
             Which
             he
             assisted
             with
             a
             Father's
             Care
             ,
          
           
             And
             did
             their
             way
             thro'
             parting
             Waves
             prepare
             .
          
           
             He
             thro'
             the
             pathless
             Desart
             was
             their
             guide
             ,
          
           
             And
             when
             the
             Tribes
             for
             Egypt's
             Onions
             cry'd
             ,
          
           
             He
             in
             the
             Wilderness
             his
             Table
             spread
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             his
             Airy
             Ovens
             bak'd
             the
             Bread
             ,
          
           
             With
             which
             th'
             ungrateful
             Murmurers
             were
             fed
             .
          
        
         
           
             Then
             marching
             onward
             with
             a
             mighty
             hand
             ,
          
           
             He
             led
             them
             to
             possess
             a
             fertile
             Land.
          
           
             There
             they
             the
             vanquish'd
             Heathen
             Lords
             pursu'd
             ,
          
           
             Reduc'd
             their
             Towns
             ,
             and
             their
             strong
             Forts
             subdu'd
             ,
          
           
             That
             they
             the
             fruitful
             Region
             might
             enjoy
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             delights
             their
             ravish'd
             Senses
             cloy
             .
          
           
             A
             Soil
             which
             Nature
             's
             choicest
             Favours
             crown
             ,
          
           
             With
             Floods
             of
             Milk
             and
             Hony
             overflown
             :
          
           
             Hony
             ,
             that
             runs
             in
             yellow
             ,
             fragrant
             Seas
             ,
          
           
             From
             out
             the
             holes
             of
             Rocks
             and
             hollow
             Trees
             .
          
           
             Bath'd
             in
             their
             Oyl
             their
             chearful
             Faces
             shone
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             the
             Grape
             's
             rich
             blood
             they
             warm'd
             their
             own
             .
          
           
             And
             yet
             the
             Tribes
             by
             gracious
             Heav'n
             carest
             ,
          
           
             Rever'd
             abroad
             ,
             at
             home
             with
             Plenty
             blest
             ,
          
           
             Grew
             fat
             and
             vicious
             ,
             like
             a
             pamper'd
             Beast
             .
          
           
             They
             all
             the
             Bounds
             of
             grateful
             Duty
             broke
             ,
          
           
             Spurn'd
             at
             their
             Lord
             ,
             and
             kick'd
             against
             his
             Yoke
             .
          
           
           
             Strange
             Gods
             inveigled
             their
             perfidious
             Heart
          
           
             The
             Worship
             of
             th'
             Almighty
             to
             desert
             ;
          
           
             Tho'
             he
             had
             unexampled
             Kindness
             shown
             ,
          
           
             And
             had
             espous'd
             their
             Int'rests
             ,
             as
             his
             own
             .
          
           
             Then
             in
             his
             Breast
             fierce
             Jealousy
             began
             ,
          
           
             The
             Rage
             of
             God
             ,
             as
             well
             as
             't
             is
             of
             Man.
             
          
        
         
           
             They
             impious
             Adoration
             prostrate
             pay
             ,
          
           
             And
             Sacrifices
             in
             their
             Temples
             slay
          
           
             To
             foul
             Infernal
             Fiends
             ,
             that
             there
             abide
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             the
             Mock-Divinitys
             reside
             .
          
           
             The
             Fools
             ,
             the
             Gods
             they
             serve
             ,
             themselves
             create
             ,
          
           
             All
             upstart
             Deitys
             of
             modern
             Date
             .
          
           
             Gods
             the
             productions
             of
             fantastic
             Fear
             ,
          
           
             Not
             Gods
             above
             ,
             but
             manufactur'd
             here
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             their
             Celestial
             Father
             they
             forgot
             ,
          
           
             Who
             their
             unthankful
             Tribes
             from
             Egypt
             brought
             .
          
           
             Who
             as
             a
             Rock
             did
             them
             in
             danger
             hide
             ,
          
           
             Remove
             their
             Fears
             ,
             and
             for
             their
             Wants
             provide
             .
          
           
             Who
             gave
             them
             Riches
             with
             a
             bounteous
             Hand
             ,
          
           
             Rais'd
             them
             to
             Honour
             ,
             and
             to
             wide
             Command
             .
          
           
             Such
             their
             Perversness
             and
             Offences
             were
             ,
          
           
             That
             God
             his
             People
             ,
             once
             his
             tender
             Care
             ,
          
           
             In
             his
             fierce
             Indignation
             did
             disclaim
             ,
          
           
             And
             threw
             his
             Children
             off
             ,
             his
             Children
             but
             in
             Name
             .
          
           
             Henceforth
             ,
             he
             said
             ,
             I
             will
             conceal
             my
             Face
             ,
          
           
             And
             hide
             my self
             from
             this
             unfaithful
             Race
             .
          
           
             Then
             they
             ,
             and
             all
             the
             Nations
             round
             shall
             see
          
           
             The
             sad
             Event
             of
             their
             Apostacy
             .
          
           
           
             From
             my
             Protection
             and
             my
             Favour
             cast
             ,
          
           
             Which
             they
             have
             long
             abus'd
             ,
             they
             shall
             at
             last
             ,
          
           
             The
             dreadful
             fruits
             of
             their
             Rebellions
             tast
             .
          
        
         
           
             Since
             the
             perverse
             and
             stubborn
             Tribes
             agree
             ,
          
           
             To
             fire
             my
             Soul
             with
             Rage
             and
             Jealousy
             ,
          
           
             Imaginary
             Gods
             while
             they
             adore
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             their
             Fictions
             give
             Almighty
             Pow'r
             ;
          
           
             In
             like
             designs
             against
             them
             I
             'll
             engage
             ,
          
           
             And
             will
             their
             Sons
             with
             Jealousy
             enrage
             .
          
           
             The
             Time
             will
             come
             when
             I
             'll
             no
             more
             confine
          
           
             My
             Favours
             and
             Regard
             to
             
             Iacob's
             Line
             ,
          
           
             To
             grieve
             their
             Sons
             ,
             my
             Blessing
             I
             'll
             dispence
          
           
             Among
             a
             salvage
             People
             void
             of
             Sense
             .
          
           
             I
             'll
             ,
             like
             my
             Sun
             ,
             spread
             my
             inlightning
             Grace
          
           
             On
             every
             Nation
             sprung
             from
             
             Adam's
             Race
             .
          
        
         
           
             On
             thee
             ,
             O
             Iacob
             ,
             I
             thy
             angry
             God
             ,
          
           
             Vast
             heaps
             of
             heavy
             Mischief
             will
             unload
             .
          
           
             For
             kindled
             by
             my
             Wrath
             a
             Fire
             shall
             burn
          
           
             The
             Forrests
             down
             ,
             and
             Hills
             to
             Cinders
             turn
             .
          
           
             It
             thro'
             the
             Bowels
             of
             the
             Earth
             shall
             spread
             ,
          
           
             And
             scorch
             the
             cold
             Apartments
             of
             the
             Dead
             .
          
           
             All
             Nature's
             Frame
             shall
             my
             fierce
             Anger
             feel
             ,
          
           
             And
             surfeited
             with
             Wrath
             ,
             the
             drunken
             Earth
             shall
             reel
             .
          
           
             I
             all
             my
             Stores
             and
             Arsenals
             will
             drain
             ,
          
           
             To
             pour
             Destruction
             down
             ,
             and
             deadly
             Pain
             .
          
           
             I
             'll
             from
             my
             Quiver
             all
             my
             Arrows
             send
             ,
          
           
             And
             Israel
             to
             destroy
             will
             all
             my
             Vengeance
             spend
             .
          
           
           
             Some
             shall
             by
             ling'ring
             Famine
             wasted
             ly
             ,
          
           
             And
             shall
             not
             ,
             till
             't
             is
             late
             ,
             have
             leave
             to
             dy
             .
          
           
             Their
             Air
             shall
             be
             infected
             ,
             and
             the
             Breath
          
           
             That
             fed
             their
             Life
             ,
             shall
             now
             give
             certain
             Death
             .
          
           
             Fevers
             in
             livid
             ,
             poisonous
             Steams
             convey'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             burning
             Plagues
             their
             Dwellings
             shall
             invade
             ,
          
           
             If
             any
             shou'd
             these
             foremost
             Plagues
             outlive
             ,
          
           
             I
             'll
             to
             the
             Forrest
             Beasts
             Commissions
             give
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             the
             Serpents
             that
             in
             Caves
             abide
             ,
          
           
             Or
             in
             the
             Dust
             their
             speckled
             Terrors
             hide
             ,
          
           
             Th'
             Apostate
             Sons
             of
             Iacob
             to
             devour
             ,
          
           
             That
             slight
             my
             Favours
             ,
             and
             defy
             my
             Pow'r
             .
          
           
             If
             these
             Domestic
             Mischiefs
             can't
             destroy
          
           
             This
             stubborn
             Nation
             ,
             I
             'll
             the
             Sword
             employ
             .
          
           
             I
             'll
             bring
             in
             sure
             Destruction
             from
             afar
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             the
             Terrors
             of
             resistless
             War.
          
           
             Their
             Innocence
             in
             vain
             the
             Virgins
             plead
             ,
          
           
             Young
             Men
             their
             Youth
             ,
             the
             Old
             their
             Hoary
             Head.
          
           
             Pierc'd
             with
             the
             Sword
             the
             sucking
             Infant
             crys
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             th'
             expiring
             Mother's
             Bosom
             dys
             .
          
           
             I
             from
             the
             Earth
             would
             these
             Apostates
             drive
             ,
          
           
             And
             leave
             no
             Soul
             of
             
             Iacob's
             Line
             alive
             ;
          
           
             Did
             not
             I
             fear
             the
             Heathen
             would
             blaspheme
             ,
          
           
             Reproach
             my
             Conduct
             ,
             and
             my
             Wrath
             condemn
             .
          
           
             That
             they
             would
             vaunt
             ,
             and
             say
             their
             mighty
             hand
          
           
             Israel
             subdu'd
             ,
             and
             chas'd
             him
             from
             his
             Land.
             
          
        
         
           
             For
             
             Iacob's
             void
             of
             Sense
             ,
             and
             does
             reject
          
           
             Th'
             Advice
             by
             which
             he
             should
             his
             ways
             direct
             .
          
           
           
             O
             that
             these
             unconsidering
             Tribes
             were
             wise
             !
          
           
             O
             that
             they
             knew
             wherein
             their
             Int'rest
             lyes
             !
          
           
             That
             they
             to
             wholesome
             Counsels
             would
             attend
             ,
          
           
             Think
             on
             their
             Ways
             ,
             and
             on
             their
             later
             End
             !
          
           
             That
             they
             would
             thus
             reflect
             ,
             God's
             vengeful
             Blow
          
           
             Is
             sure
             and
             fatal
             ,
             be
             it
             ne'er
             so
             slow
             .
          
           
             The
             Debt
             of
             Vengeance
             does
             by
             his
             delay
          
           
             Augment
             the
             Sum
             ,
             which
             he
             at
             last
             will
             pay
             .
          
        
         
           
             How
             should
             a
             Man
             a
             Thousand
             chase
             ,
             and
             two
          
           
             Ten
             Thousand
             flying
             Enemys
             pursue
             ,
          
           
             Had
             not
             their
             God
             in
             Wrath
             withdrawn
             his
             Aid
          
           
             And
             their
             high
             Fences
             flat
             and
             open
             laid
             ;
          
           
             Had
             he
             not
             shut
             them
             up
             in
             Holes
             and
             Caves
             ,
          
           
             Or
             sold
             'em
             to
             th'
             insulting
             Foe
             for
             Slaves
             ?
          
           
             For
             ,
             let
             our
             Foes
             be
             Judges
             ,
             they
             'll
             declare
          
           
             That
             to
             our
             God
             ,
             their
             own
             inferiour
             are
             .
          
           
             This
             by
             th'
             Suff●rings
             which
             they
             undergo
             ,
          
           
             Their
             conquer'd
             Towns
             and
             routed
             Armys
             know
             .
          
           
             Had
             he
             been
             pleas'd
             among
             us
             to
             abide
             ,
          
           
             Conquest
             had
             still
             attended
             
             Israel's
             side
             .
          
           
             'T
             is
             from
             our selves
             alone
             our
             Suff'rings
             spring
             ,
          
           
             For
             Sin
             at
             last
             will
             sure
             Destruction
             bring
             .
          
        
         
           
             I
             planted
             Iacob
             as
             a
             noble
             Vine
             ,
          
           
             Expecting
             thence
             a
             rich
             and
             gen'rous
             Wine
             ,
          
           
             But
             't
             is
             degenerate
             ,
             and
             a
             sourer
             Juice
          
           
             The
             Vines
             in
             
             Sodom's
             Fields
             did
             ne'er
             produce
             .
          
           
             No
             base●
             Stock
             did
             in
             Gomorrah
             grow
             ;
          
           
             Wormwood
             and
             Gall
             from
             its
             prest
             Clusters
             flow
             .
          
           
           
             No
             ranker
             Poison
             wild
             Arabia
             yields
          
           
             Than
             this
             ,
             that
             grows
             in
             
             Palestina's
             Fields
             .
          
           
             Their
             Wine
             outdoes
             the
             Venom
             Asps
             afford
             ,
          
           
             Or
             that
             ,
             with
             which
             the
             Serpent's
             Teeth
             are
             stor'd
             .
          
           
             But
             tho'
             I
             suffer
             long
             they
             grosly
             err
             ,
          
           
             That
             thence
             shall
             their
             Impunity
             infer
             .
          
           
             Their
             Wickedness
             exactly
             I
             record
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Crimes
             are
             safely
             with
             my
             Treasure
             stor'd
             ,
          
           
             Next
             to
             the
             Caves
             where
             I
             my
             Vengeance
             hoard
             .
          
           
             To
             me
             belongs
             to
             punish
             and
             reward
             ,
          
           
             The
             Debt
             is
             ne'er
             forgotten
             ,
             tho'
             deferr'd
             .
          
           
             Vengeance
             digests
             ,
             and
             strengthens
             as
             it
             lies
             ,
          
           
             And
             will
             at
             last
             to
             full
             Perfection
             rise
             .
          
           
             Sin
             and
             Destruction
             still
             together
             go
             ,
          
           
             Vengeance
             is
             ripe
             ,
             whenever
             Sin
             is
             so
             .
          
           
             The
             black
             and
             dismal
             Day
             approaches
             near
             ,
          
           
             When
             Justice
             in
             its
             Terrors
             will
             appear
             .
          
           
             A
             Day
             of
             greater
             Sorrow
             and
             Distress
          
           
             Than
             Fear
             can
             apprehend
             ,
             or
             Words
             express
             .
          
           
             Then
             suff'ring
             Israel
             will
             in
             Anguish
             say
             ,
          
           
             I
             did
             not
             pardon
             ,
             tho'
             I
             did
             delay
             .
          
        
         
           
             Yet
             God
             at
             last
             will
             from
             his
             Wrath
             depart
             ,
          
           
             Plead
             for
             his
             People
             ,
             and
             their
             Cause
             assert
             .
          
           
             His
             tender
             Nature
             will
             at
             last
             relent
             ,
          
           
             And
             if
             his
             People
             do
             ,
             he
             'll
             soon
             repent
             .
          
           
             Commiseration
             will
             possess
             his
             Breast
             ,
          
           
             When
             he
             shall
             see
             his
             Israel
             sore
             opprest
             .
          
           
             When
             he
             shall
             find
             the
             Plagues
             that
             he
             employ'd
             ,
          
           
             Has
             almost
             
             Iacob's
             guilty
             Race
             destroy'd
             .
          
           
           
             He
             'll
             thus
             the
             stupid
             Criminals
             upbraid
             ,
          
           
             Where
             are
             the
             Gods
             to
             whom
             you
             bow'd
             and
             pray'd
             ?
          
           
             Now
             for
             Protection
             to
             your
             Idols
             flee
             ,
          
           
             The
             Gods
             you
             chose
             ,
             when
             you
             rejected
             me
             .
          
           
             You
             did
             your
             Adoration
             to
             them
             pay
             ;
          
           
             Your
             Sacrifices
             at
             their
             Altars
             slay
             ,
          
           
             And
             rich
             Oblations
             there
             profusely
             lay
             .
          
           
             To
             these
             Abominations
             ,
             Israel
             ,
             cry
             ,
          
           
             In
             thy
             distress
             their
             Power
             and
             Goodness
             try
             .
          
           
             With
             loud
             repeated
             Pray'rs
             thy
             Gods
             invoke
             ,
          
           
             To
             bring
             thee
             Aid
             and
             break
             thy
             heavy
             Yoke
             .
          
           
             Now
             by
             your
             sad
             experience
             learn
             and
             see
             ,
          
           
             That
             I
             the
             Lord
             ,
             ev'n
             I
             alone
             am
             he
             ,
          
           
             That
             can
             subdue
             your
             Foes
             and
             set
             your
             Captives
             free
             .
          
           
             I
             at
             my
             Pleasure
             Kill
             and
             make
             alive
             ,
          
           
             I
             wound
             and
             heal
             ,
             I
             health
             and
             sickness
             give
             .
          
           
             Where
             is
             the
             Arm
             that
             can
             my
             Pow'r
             withstand
             ,
          
           
             And
             tear
             a
             Pris'ner
             from
             my
             griping
             Hand
             ?
          
           
             I
             lift
             my
             hand
             ,
             most
             solemnly
             I
             swear
             ,
          
           
             And
             ,
             as
             I
             live
             for
             ever
             ,
             I
             declare
          
           
             That
             when
             I
             once
             begin
             to
             take
             the
             Field
             ,
          
           
             To
             whet
             my
             glitt'ring
             Sword
             ,
             and
             raise
             my
             Shield
             ,
          
           
             When
             I
             my
             deadly
             Instruments
             prepare
             ,
          
           
             And
             arm
             my self
             to
             undertake
             the
             War
             ;
          
           
             My
             Fury
             shall
             my
             Enemys
             devour
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             their
             Land
             I
             'll
             Storms
             of
             Vengeance
             pour
             .
          
           
             I
             'll
             give
             my
             hungry
             Sword
             their
             Flesh
             for
             Food
             ,
          
           
             And
             make
             my
             thirsty
             Arrows
             drunk
             with
             Blood.
             
          
        
         
           
           
             Their
             Voices
             let
             the
             Gentile
             World
             employ
             ,
          
           
             And
             joyn
             with
             
             Iacob's
             Sons
             in
             Songs
             of
             Joy
             :
          
           
             For
             on
             their
             Foes
             God
             will
             avenge
             the
             blood
          
           
             Of
             those
             who
             stedfast
             in
             his
             Service
             stood
             .
          
           
             To
             Israel
             he
             his
             Mercy
             will
             extend
             ,
          
           
             And
             Heav'nly
             Light
             and
             Truth
             amidst
             their
             Dwellings
             send
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
         
           A
           PARAPHRASE
           On
           part
           of
           the
           xivth
           Cha.
           of
           Isaiah
           .
        
         
           Beginning
           at
           the
           4th
           ,
           and
           ending
           at
           the
           24th
           Verse
           .
        
         
           
             THE
             Nations
             round
             amaz'd
             and
             overjoy'd
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             crowd
             to
             see
             proud
             Babylon
             destroy'd
             .
          
           
             They
             'll
             spred
             their
             Hands
             to
             Heav'n
             ,
             and
             say
             ,
          
           
             O
             blest
             ,
             O
             long
             expected
             Day
             !
          
           
             How
             from
             his
             Throne
             is
             the
             great
             Tyrant
             cast
             ,
          
           
             The
             Ravager
             that
             all
             our
             Towns
             defac't
             ,
          
           
             Ruin'd
             Mankind
             ,
             and
             laid
             all
             Nature
             wast
             !
          
           
             How
             is
             th'
             Imperial
             ,
             Purple
             Plague
             that
             reign'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             rag'd
             so
             long
             at
             last
             restrain'd
             ?
          
           
             Where
             are
             the
             Guards
             who
             us'd
             to
             wait
          
           
             Before
             th'
             Oppressor's
             Palace
             Gate
             ?
          
           
             Where
             are
             the
             awful
             Ensigns
             of
             his
             State
             ?
          
           
             Where
             is
             the
             fawning
             flatt'ring
             Throng
             ,
          
           
             That
             to
             his
             Court
             did
             once
             belong
             ?
          
           
             Who
             did
             the
             Monster
             as
             a
             God
             adore
             ,
          
           
             And
             bless
             the
             rav'ning
             Jaws
             that
             did
             Mankind
             devour
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             haughty
             City
             which
             the
             World
             controul'd
             ,
          
           
             Magnificent
             with
             Cedar
             ,
             and
             with
             Gold
             ,
          
           
           
             Which
             tow'ring
             stood
             amidst
             the
             Skys
             ,
          
           
             See
             where
             her
             Head
             in
             heaps
             of
             Rubbish
             lys
             .
          
           
             Is
             this
             the
             City
             will
             Spectators
             say
             ,
          
           
             That
             all
             the
             World
             her
             Empire
             did
             survey
             ?
          
           
             That
             made
             the
             Nations
             tremble
             with
             her
             Frowns
             ,
          
           
             And
             gave
             to
             Kings
             their
             Tributary
             Crowns
             ?
          
           
             How
             great
             a
             Change
             !
             good
             Heav'ns
             ,
             how
             soon
          
           
             Is
             all
             her
             Pride
             and
             Glory
             gone
             !
          
           
             God
             by
             a
             great
             illustrious
             Stroke
          
           
             Of
             Justice
             ,
             has
             her
             Monarch's
             Scepter
             broke
             ,
          
           
             And
             freed
             the
             groaning
             Nations
             from
             his
             Yoke
             .
          
           
             He
             has
             destroy'd
             the
             Tow'rs
             of
             Babylon
             ,
          
           
             And
             rent
             the
             Pillars
             that
             upheld
             her
             Throne
             .
          
           
             He
             has
             her
             cruel
             Pow'r
             withstood
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             her
             Head
             aveng'd
             the
             Nation
             's
             Blood.
          
           
             She
             that
             the
             Faces
             of
             the
             Poor
             did
             grind
             ,
          
           
             That
             ne'er
             to
             Mercy
             was
             inclin'd
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             no
             Compassion
             from
             the
             Conq'rour
             find
             .
          
           
             The
             People
             by
             her
             Yoke
             opprest
             ,
          
           
             By
             Heav'n
             deliver'd
             from
             their
             Bondage
             rest
             .
          
           
             Kingdoms
             enslav'd
             their
             Liberty
             regain
             ,
          
           
             And
             Captives
             from
             their
             Feet
             shake
             off
             the
             servile
             Chain
             .
          
           
             Loud
             Triumphs
             ,
             universal
             Joy
             ,
          
           
             And
             Songs
             of
             Praise
             shall
             all
             the
             Earth
             employ
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Pines
             and
             Fir-trees
             on
             the
             Hills
             rejoyce
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             a
             grateful
             Voice
          
           
             The
             Cedars
             that
             in
             stately
             Order
             grow
          
           
             On
             Lebanon's
             high
             Airy
             Brow
             ,
          
           
           
             Cry
             ,
             we
             of
             this
             Deliv'rance
             too
             partake
             ,
          
           
             Let
             us
             as
             well
             as
             Men
             our
             thankful
             Off'ring
             make
             .
          
           
             We
             Liberty
             ,
             as
             well
             as
             they
             ,
             enjoy
             ;
          
           
             No
             more
             shall
             Babylon
             employ
             ,
          
           
             Her
             Ravagers
             our
             quiet
             to
             annoy
             .
          
           
             Our
             Spoils
             shall
             yield
             no
             more
             supply
          
           
             To
             the
             proud
             City's
             Luxury
             .
          
           
             No
             more
             the
             Feller
             shall
             our
             Forest
             wound
             ,
          
           
             No
             more
             the
             Axe
             shall
             thro'
             the
             Hills
             resound
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             shall
             our
             mangl'd
             Limbs
             o'erspred
             th'
             encumber'd
             ground
          
        
         
           
             The
             Grave
             shall
             for
             th'
             Assyrian
             Monarch's
             sake
          
           
             Disturb
             the
             Peaceful
             Dead
             ,
             and
             make
          
           
             Her
             drousy
             Lodgers
             rise
             ,
          
           
             Shake
             from
             their
             Feet
             their
             Chains
             ,
             and
             Slumber
             from
             their
             Eyes
             .
          
           
             Princes
             and
             Kings
             who
             underground
          
           
             Only
             with
             Worms
             and
             Dust
             are
             crown'd
             ,
          
           
             She
             from
             their
             Beds
             of
             Darkness
             shall
             release
             ,
          
           
             The
             only
             Thrones
             they
             now
             possess
             :
          
           
             To
             meet
             Assyria's
             Tyrant
             on
             his
             way
             ,
          
           
             The
             Grave
             this
             Royal
             Embassy
             shall
             send
             ;
          
           
             And
             ,
             as
             instructed
             ,
             they
             shall
             say
             ,
          
           
             O
             King
             ,
             does
             thus
             thy
             Pomp
             and
             Empire
             end
             ?
          
           
             Feeble
             as
             we
             art
             thou
             become
             ?
          
           
             Must
             we
             conduct
             thee
             to
             a
             narrow
             Tomb
             ,
          
           
             For
             whom
             the
             World
             before
             had
             scarce
             sufficient
             room
             ?
          
           
             Art
             thou
             whose
             Scepter
             had
             so
             vast
             a
             sway
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             Will
             ev'n
             Kings
             themselves
             did
             once
             obey
             ,
          
           
             Stript
             of
             thy
             Pow'r
             and
             Majesty
             ,
          
           
             Art
             thou
             as
             Naked
             ,
             Poor
             and
             Weak
             as
             we
             ?
          
           
           
             Could
             not
             thy
             Conq'ring
             Armys
             save
          
           
             Their
             mighty
             Monarch
             from
             the
             Grave
             ?
          
           
             Must
             thou
             too
             in
             a
             dark
             and
             dusty
             Bed
          
           
             Lay
             thy
             Imperial
             awful
             Head
             ,
          
           
             And
             be
             with
             Worms
             instead
             of
             Scarlet
             spread
             ?
          
           
             And
             must
             the
             Ear
          
           
             That
             us'd
             to
             hear
          
           
             The
             Viol
             's
             ,
             or
             the
             Harp's
             melodious
             Noise
             ,
          
           
             Or
             the
             Flatterer's
             softer
             Voice
             ,
          
           
             Be
             now
             with
             us
             the
             Dead
             entomb'd
             ,
          
           
             To
             everlasting
             Silence
             doom'd
             ?
          
        
         
           
             How
             art
             thou
             fal'n
             from
             Heav'n
             ,
             O
             Lucifer
             ,
          
           
             Son
             of
             the
             Morn
             ,
          
           
             How
             does
             thy
             Glory
             disappear
             ,
          
           
             Which
             once
             thy
             Temples
             did
             adorn
             ?
          
           
             Grown
             mad
             with
             Pride
             ,
             by
             Flatt'ry
             fed
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             in
             thy
             Heart
             has
             oft
             blaspheming
             said
             ,
          
           
             I
             into
             Heav'n
             ,
             will
             ,
             as
             a
             God
             ,
             arise
             ,
          
           
             And
             shine
             above
             the
             Stars
             amidst
             the
             Skys
             .
          
           
             Worship
             Divine
             will
             me
             befit
             ,
          
           
             I
             base
             Mortality
             disown
             ,
          
           
             And
             therefore
             will
             on
             Zion
             fix
             my
             Throne
             ,
          
           
             And
             there
             to
             be
             ador'd
             in
             Majesty
             will
             sit
             .
          
           
             Above
             the
             Clouds
             of
             Heav'n
             will
             I
             ascend
             ,
          
           
             And
             my
             Dominion
             o'er
             the
             World
             extend
             .
          
           
             My
             Greatness
             Men
             shall
             like
             to
             God's
             adore
             ,
          
           
             And
             uncontroul'd
             ,
             like
             his
             ,
             shall
             be
             my
             Sov'raign
             Pow'r
             .
          
           
           
             Yet
             ,
             Tyrant
             ,
             thou
             shalt
             sink
             as
             low
             as
             Hell
             ,
          
           
             And
             of
             thy
             State
             divested
             dwell
          
           
             In
             the
             gloomy
             Shades
             beneath
             ,
          
           
             In
             the
             dusty
             Courts
             of
             Death
             .
          
           
             Where
             thy
             Arrival
             will
             the
             Dead
             amaze
             ,
          
           
             On
             thee
             the
             pale
             Inhabitants
             will
             gaze
             ,
          
           
             And
             cry
             ,
             is
             this
             the
             late
             pretended
             God
          
           
             That
             govern'd
             Millions
             with
             his
             Nod
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             the
             Necks
             of
             Captive
             Princes
             trod
             ?
          
           
             Is
             this
             th'
             Immortal
             Man
             that
             never
             cloy'd
          
           
             With
             Blood
             and
             Rapine
             all
             the
             Earth
             destroy'd
             ?
          
           
             That
             Princes
             of
             their
             Thrones
             did
             disposses
          
           
             Did
             wasted
             Nations
             with
             his
             Yoke
             oppress
             ,
          
           
             And
             made
             the
             empty
             World
             a
             howling
             Wilderness
             ?
          
           
             Who
             Tow'rs
             demolish'd
             ,
             goodly
             Buildings
             burn'd
          
           
             And
             Cities
             into
             Rubbish
             turn'd
             ;
          
           
             Who
             never
             gave
             his
             People
             rest
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             once
             his
             Pris'ners
             from
             their
             Chains
             releast
             .
          
        
         
           
             When
             other
             Sov'raign
             Princes
             die
             ,
          
           
             They
             lie
             in
             pompous
             Sepulchres
             ,
             prepar'd
          
           
             To
             Lodge
             their
             Royal
             Family
             ,
          
           
             And
             as
             they
             liv'd
             they
             are
             in
             State
             inter'd
             .
          
           
             But
             none
             thy
             Body
             in
             the
             Tomb
             shall
             lay
             ,
          
           
             They
             'll
             cast
             it
             as
             a
             rotten
             Branch
             away
             .
          
           
             No
             Funeral
             Honours
             shall
             thy
             Herse
             adorn
             ,
          
           
             But
             as
             the
             bloody
             Raiment
             of
             the
             Slain
          
           
             Whom
             the
             next
             Pit
             or
             Quarries
             entertain
             ,
          
           
           
             Thy
             more
             polluted
             Carcass
             shall
             with
             scorn
          
           
             Be
             trodden
             under
             foot
             ,
             and
             into
             pieces
             torn
             .
          
        
         
           
             Thou
             shalt
             not
             from
             thy
             Palace
             be
             convey'd
          
           
             As
             other
             Monarchs
             use
             to
             be
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             in
             a
             stately
             Tomb
             be
             laid
          
           
             With
             costly
             Rites
             and
             sad
             Solemnity
             .
          
           
             Because
             thy
             Salvage
             Hand
          
           
             Has
             slain
             thy
             People
             and
             destroy'd
             thy
             Land.
          
           
             God
             shall
             all
             Marks
             and
             Monuments
             efface
          
           
             Of
             this
             ungodly
             ,
             cruel
             Race
             .
          
           
             His
             Hand
             that
             rais'd
             them
             up
             shall
             pull
             'em
             down
             ,
          
           
             And
             strip
             them
             of
             their
             Glory
             and
             Renown
             .
          
           
             Resistless
             Ruin
             he
             will
             on
             'em
             send
             ,
          
           
             Their
             House
             and
             Empire
             shall
             together
             end
             .
          
        
         
           
             Let
             it
             ye
             Medes
             and
             Persians
             be
             you
             Care
          
           
             Destruction
             for
             their
             Children
             to
             prepare
             .
          
           
             No
             tenderness
             to
             Age
             or
             Sex
             express
             ,
          
           
             But
             on
             the
             Sons
             avenge
             the
             Father's
             Wickedness
             .
          
           
             That
             this
             curst
             House
             may
             never
             more
          
           
             Regain
             their
             Splendor
             and
             their
             former
             Pow'r
             .
          
        
         
           
             Thus
             saith
             the
             Lord
             of
             Hosts
             ,
             OBabilon
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             'rt
             fully
             ripe
             for
             Ruin
             grown
             :
          
           
             In
             Storms
             of
             Vengeance
             I
             'll
             against
             thee
             rise
          
           
             Which
             shall
             thy
             careless
             Sons
             surprise
             .
          
           
             Thy
             lofty
             Tow'rs
             I
             'll
             level
             lay
             ,
          
           
             And
             sweep
             thy
             vile
             Inhabitants
             away
             .
          
           
           
             Thee
             like
             to
             Sodom
             I
             will
             make
             ,
          
           
             And
             turn
             thee
             to
             a
             mighty
             Lake
             .
          
           
             The
             lonesome
             Bittern
             shall
             possess
          
           
             This
             Fenny
             Seat
             ,
             this
             Reedy
             Wilderness
             .
          
           
             The
             Waves
             shall
             thro'
             thy
             Cedar
             Chambers
             rowl
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             thy
             Shore
             shall
             Water-Monsters
             howl
             .
          
           
             The
             Palaces
             where
             cruel
             Kings
             did
             reign
             ,
          
           
             In
             time
             to
             come
             shall
             entertain
          
           
             The
             mute
             Oppressors
             of
             the
             Main
             .
          
           
             So
             Babylon
             shall
             always
             be
          
           
             The
             Seat
             of
             Blood
             and
             Tyranny
             .
          
           
             A
             scaly
             Garrison
             shall
             dwell
          
           
             In
             every
             Fort
             and
             Cittadel
             .
          
           
             The
             swift
             Assassins
             of
             the
             Flood
             shall
             sport
          
           
             Within
             thy
             Monarch's
             weedy
             Court
             ;
          
           
             Thither
             shall
             Fish
             of
             every
             Kind
             resort
             .
          
           
             There
             thy
             Luxurious
             Sons
             they
             shall
             devour
             ,
          
           
             And
             feed
             on
             those
             ;
             who
             fed
             on
             them
             before
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
         
           THE
           xxxivth
           Cha.
           of
           Isaiah
           .
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
        
         
           
             YE
             various
             Nations
             who
             disperse
          
           
             Your
             Dwellings
             thro'
             the
             spacious
             Universe
             ,
          
           
             Inhabitants
             of
             every
             distant
             Soil
             ,
          
           
             Of
             every
             Continent
             and
             every
             Isle
             ,
          
           
             At
             Heav'n's
             dread
             Summons
             all
             appear
             ;
          
           
             Let
             all
             the
             World
             collected
             throng
             to
             hear
          
           
             Things
             that
             will
             melt
             their
             trembling
             Hearts
             with
             fear
             .
          
        
         
           
             Against
             the
             Nations
             God's
             fierce
             Anger
             burns
             ,
          
           
             Against
             them
             he
             his
             pointed
             Vengeance
             turns
             .
          
           
             He
             brings
             his
             oldest
             Stores
             of
             Fury
             forth
             ,
          
           
             Hidden
             Reserves
             of
             Rage
             ,
             and
             high
             fermented
             Wrath.
          
           
             He
             will
             the
             swiftest
             Kinds
             of
             Death
             employ
          
           
             The
             Heathen
             Nations
             to
             destroy
             ;
          
           
             Who
             mixing
             Arms
             advance
             from
             far
          
           
             Against
             our
             Land
             Confed'rate
             War.
          
           
             Their
             Bodies
             shall
             unburied
             lie
             ,
             a
             Feast
          
           
             To
             every
             rav'ning
             Forrest
             Beast
             .
          
           
             Vultures
             and
             all
             the
             Rovers
             of
             the
             Air
             ,
          
           
             To
             the
             red
             Fields
             of
             Slaughter
             shall
             repair
             ;
          
           
             Where
             they
             great
             Chiefs
             and
             Potentates
             shall
             eat
             ,
          
           
             And
             royal
             Banquets
             shall
             their
             Hunger
             treat
             .
          
           
           
             From
             heaps
             of
             putrifying
             Dead
             ,
          
           
             Amidst
             the
             Skies
          
           
             A
             noisome
             Scent
             shall
             rise
             ,
          
           
             And
             thro'
             the
             tainted
             Air
             Malignant
             Vapours
             spread
             .
          
        
         
           
             Down
             from
             the
             Hills
             on
             which
             their
             Armys
             stood
          
           
             Torrents
             shall
             run
             of
             reeking
             Blood
             ,
          
           
             And
             rocky
             Fragments
             roll
             along
             th'
             impetous
             Flood
             .
          
           
             The
             Plains
             shall
             lie
             ,
             and
             all
             the
             Vales
             around
          
           
             Beneath
             the
             Purple
             Inundation
             drown'd
             .
          
        
         
           
             Nature
             shall
             groan
             ,
             and
             during
             this
             attack
          
           
             Her
             universal
             Frame
             shall
             with
             Convulsions
             shake
             .
          
           
             The
             Sun
             and
             Moon
             amaz'd
             to
             see
          
           
             Nature's
             convulsive
             Agony
          
           
             Shall
             spring
             ,
             and
             start
             from
             out
             their
             Sphears
             ;
          
           
             And
             all
             the
             glitt'ring
             Host
             of
             Stars
          
           
             Seiz'd
             with
             no
             less
             affright
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             fly
             away
             from
             Mortals
             sight
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             the
             Bosom
             hide
             of
             antient
             Night
             .
          
           
             The
             vast
             Expansion
             drawn
             around
             the
             World
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             like
             a
             useless
             Sail
             be
             furl'd
             .
          
           
             All
             the
             blew
             Volumes
             of
             the
             Sky
             shall
             roll
          
           
             Themselves
             together
             ,
             as
             a
             Parchment
             Scrole
             .
          
           
             Celestial
             Orbs
             that
             round
             us
             shine
          
           
             Falling
             from
             Heav'n
             the
             World
             shall
             see
          
           
             As
             Leaves
             in
             Autumn
             from
             the
             Vine
             ,
          
           
             Or
             Figgs
             when
             ripe
             ,
             fall
             from
             the
             shaken
             Tree
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             Th'
             Almighty's
             Sword
             ,
             so
             't
             is
             in
             Heav'n
             decreed
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             bath
             it self
             in
             Blood
             ,
             and
             on
             Destruction
             feed
             .
          
           
             The
             radiant
             Spoiler
             down
             the
             Sky
          
           
             Shall
             like
             projected
             Lightning
             fly
             .
          
           
             On
             
             Edom's
             Fields
             he
             'll
             make
             his
             swift
             descent
          
           
             To
             execute
             his
             dire
             Intent
             .
          
           
             The
             reeking
             Ravager
             will
             march
             in
             hast
          
           
             To
             slay
             the
             Men
             ,
             and
             lay
             the
             Country
             wast
             .
          
           
             Where
             e'er
             his
             Course
             the
             Conq'rour
             bends
             ,
          
           
             Ruin
             in
             all
             its
             frightful
             Forms
             attends
             .
          
           
             Death
             and
             Destruction
             keep
             an
             equal
             pace
             ,
          
           
             And
             Desolation
             shews
             her
             ghastly
             ,
             wastful
             Face
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             glitt'ring
             Glutton
             shall
             be
             gorg'd
             with
             Food
          
           
             Made
             fat
             with
             Spoil
             and
             drunk
             with
             Blood.
          
           
             Not
             with
             the
             Blood
             of
             Goats
             and
             Lambs
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             fatted
             with
             the
             Flesh
             of
             Rams
             ,
          
           
             But
             with
             the
             Blood
             of
             Israel's
             Foes
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             their
             Flesh
             who
             Israel's
             God
             oppose
             .
          
           
             Princes
             and
             Lords
             with
             these
             combin'd
          
           
             Against
             us
             ,
             in
             Destruction
             too
             are
             joyn'd
             .
          
           
             Princes
             and
             Lords
             who
             arm'd
             with
             Pow'r
          
           
             The
             People
             ,
             as
             their
             Prey
             devour
             :
          
           
             Who
             lawless
             sway
             like
             Unicorns
             possess
             ,
          
           
             Or
             the
             wild
             Bulls
             that
             range
             the
             Wilderness
             .
          
           
             God
             has
             a
             mighty
             Sacrifice
             in
             hand
          
           
             In
             Bozrah
             ,
             and
             at
             his
             command
          
           
             Vast
             slaughter
             will
             be
             made
             in
             
             Edom's
             Land.
          
           
           
             A
             Slaughter
             and
             a
             Sacrifice
          
           
             Where
             harmless
             Beasts
             are
             sav'd
             ,
             and
             Man
             th'
             Offender
             dies
             .
          
        
         
           
             So
             great
             a
             Slaughter
             shall
             be
             made
             ,
          
           
             That
             all
             the
             Land
             shall
             under
             Blood
             be
             laid
             .
          
           
             The
             Carcasses
             of
             Idumeans
             slain
          
           
             Shall
             cover
             every
             Hill
             and
             Plain
             .
          
           
             For
             this
             is
             that
             tremendous
             Day
          
           
             Which
             God
             appoints
             ,
             wherein
             to
             pay
          
           
             The
             mighty
             Sums
             of
             Fury
             in
             arrear
             ,
          
           
             And
             his
             vast
             Debt
             of
             Vengeance
             clear
             ;
          
           
             His
             long
             contracted
             Debt
             of
             Vengeance
             due
          
           
             To
             Nations
             ,
             that
             his
             People's
             fall
             pursue
             .
          
        
         
           
             Their
             Floods
             to
             lazy
             Streams
             of
             Pitch
             shall
             turn
             ,
          
           
             And
             kindled
             Brimstone
             shall
             their
             Cities
             burn
             .
          
           
             The
             Clouds
             shall
             spouts
             of
             Flame
             on
             Edom
             pour
             ,
          
           
             Such
             as
             Gomorrah
             did
             devour
             ;
          
           
             Whence
             everlasting
             Smoke
             shall
             rise
             ,
          
           
             As
             from
             a
             burning
             Mount
             amidst
             the
             Skies
             .
          
           
             No
             People
             more
             shall
             e'er
             possess
          
           
             This
             ruin'd
             Land
             ,
             this
             burning
             Wilderness
             .
          
           
             No
             Trav'ller
             ever
             more
             shall
             pass
          
           
             Thro'
             this
             accurs'd
             ,
             inhospitable
             Place
             .
          
           
             Ne'er
             shall
             be
             seen
             the
             footsteps
             of
             a
             Man
             ,
          
           
             But
             the
             hoarce
             Bittern
             ,
             and
             the
             Pelican
             ,
          
           
             The
             Owl
             and
             Raven
             shall
             inhabit
             there
          
           
             With
             all
             th'
             illboding
             Monsters
             of
             the
             Air.
          
           
             God
             to
             accomplish
             his
             design
             ,
          
           
             O'er
             Edom
             shall
             extend
             his
             measuring
             Line
             :
          
           
           
             Shall
             draw
             his
             Compass
             round
             about
             ,
          
           
             And
             for
             Destruction
             mark
             the
             People
             out
             .
          
        
         
           
             No
             Idumean
             Prince
             or
             Lord
          
           
             Shall
             scape
             the
             Conq'ring
             Sword.
          
           
             Thistles
             and
             thorny
             Trees
          
           
             Shall
             flourish
             in
             their
             Princes
             Palaces
             .
          
           
             Nettles
             shall
             sp●ing
             around
             their
             Monarch's
             Throne
             ;
          
           
             Their
             Forts
             with
             〈◊〉
             shall
             be
             overgrown
             ,
          
           
             And
             mossy
             Turf
             shall
             cover
             every
             Stone
             .
          
           
             Their
             gilded
             Roofs
             shall
             lodge
             the
             Bat
             and
             Owl
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             their
             lofty
             Rooms
             of
             State
          
           
             Where
             cringing
             Sycophants
             did
             wait
             ,
          
           
             Dragons
             shall
             hiss
             ,
             and
             hungry
             Wolves
             shall
             howl
             .
          
           
             In
             Courts
             before
             by
             mighty
             Lords
             possest
             ,
          
           
             The
             Serpent
             shall
             erect
             his
             speckled
             Crest
             ,
          
           
             Or
             fold
             his
             circling
             Spires
             to
             rest
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             long-neck'd
             Gyant
             of
             the
             feather'd
             Kind
          
           
             The
             Ostrich
             ,
             there
             a
             sandy
             Nest
             shall
             find
             .
          
           
             Leopards
             and
             all
             the
             rav'ning
             Brotherhoods
          
           
             That
             range
             the
             Plains
             ,
             or
             lurk
             in
             Woods
             ,
          
           
             Each
             other
             shall
             invite
             to
             come
          
           
             And
             make
             this
             wilder
             Place
             their
             home
             .
          
           
             Fierce
             Beasts
             of
             every
             frightful
             shape
             and
             size
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             setle
             here
             their
             bloody
             Colonys
             .
          
           
             Satyrs
             shall
             to
             their
             Fellows
             cry
             ,
             advance
             ,
          
           
             Let
             us
             to
             
             Edom's
             Land
             make
             hast
             ,
          
           
             'T
             is
             a
             silent
             ,
             lonesome
             Wast
             ,
          
           
             There
             let
             us
             dwell
             ,
             there
             let
             us
             sport
             and
             dance
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             The
             Screech-Owl
             thither
             shall
             direct
             her
             flight
             ,
          
           
             With
             all
             the
             Hooping
             Horrors
             of
             the
             Night
             :
          
           
             There
             they
             shall
             build
             their
             Nests
             and
             breed
             ;
          
           
             Their
             Eggs
             they
             'll
             unmolested
             lay
             ,
          
           
             There
             o'er
             their
             Young
             their
             Wings
             display
          
           
             And
             there
             the
             gaping
             Callow
             Monsters
             feed
             .
          
           
             The
             Vultures
             there
             and
             all
             the
             Eagle
             Kind
          
           
             Shall
             rendezvous
             o'erjoy'd
             to
             find
          
           
             A
             perfect
             desolation
             to
             their
             Mind
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           xlth
           Chap.
           of
           Isaiah
           .
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
        
         
           
             YE
             Prophets
             who
             divine
             Credentials
             bear
          
           
             Distinguish'd
             by
             your
             Sacred
             Character
             ,
          
           
             Envoys
             and
             Agents
             ,
             who
             by
             my
             Command
          
           
             Reside
             in
             
             Palestina's
             Land
             ;
          
           
             To
             whom
             Commission
             I
             have
             giv'n
          
           
             To
             manage
             there
             the
             Interests
             of
             Heav'n
             ;
          
           
             Ye
             holy
             Heralds
             who
             proclaim
          
           
             Or
             War
             or
             Peace
             in
             mine
             your
             Master's
             Name
             ,
          
           
             Let
             my
             desponding
             People
             know
             ,
          
           
             That
             I
             their
             God
             will
             mitigate
             their
             Woe
             ,
          
           
             Tell
             them
             Compassion
             melts
             my
             Heart
          
           
             That
             I
             of
             punishing
             Repent
             ,
          
           
             And
             that
             their
             bleeding
             Wounds
             and
             Smart
          
           
             Which
             my
             own
             hand
             inflicted
             ,
             I
             Lament
             .
          
           
             Comfort
             Ierusalem
             ,
             and
             cry
          
           
             The
             time
             of
             her
             Deliverance
             is
             nigh
             .
          
           
             Say
             her
             Offences
             I
             'll
             forget
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             more
             my
             scourging
             Strokes
             repeat
             .
          
           
             Her
             Suffrings
             and
             her
             Servitude
             shall
             cease
             ,
          
           
             And
             from
             Oppression
             I
             'll
             her
             Sons
             release
             .
          
           
             Th'
             Allarms
             of
             War
             she
             shall
             no
             longer
             hear
             ,
          
           
             No
             more
             Assyrian
             Armys
             fear
             .
          
           
           
             She
             shall
             enjoy
             uninterrupted
             Ease
             ,
          
           
             Gather'd
             beneath
             the
             downy
             Wings
             of
             Peace
             .
          
           
             The
             Suff'rings
             she
             has
             undergone
          
           
             Abundantly
             my
             Wrath
             for
             all
             her
             Sins
             atone
             .
          
        
         
           
             Hark!
             What
             a
             loud
             Majestic
             sound
          
           
             What
             awful
             Accents
             from
             the
             Hills
             rebound
             !
          
           
             Listen
             with
             Rev'rence
             ,
             Hark!
             the
             noise
          
           
             Grows
             more
             distinct
             ;
             't
             is
             the
             commanding
             Voice
          
           
             Of
             one
             that
             in
             the
             Desart
             crys
             ,
          
           
             Let
             all
             the
             Nations
             round
             arise
             :
          
           
             Ye
             Pioneers
             of
             Heav'n
             prepare
             a
             Road
          
           
             Thro'
             the
             pathless
             Wilderness
             ,
          
           
             Make
             it
             plain
             and
             strait
             and
             broad
             ,
          
           
             And
             let
             your
             Shouts
             your
             Joy
             express
             .
          
           
             Th'
             obstructing
             Groves
             and
             Forrests
             level
             lay
             ,
          
           
             And
             for
             th'
             Almighty
             make
             a
             way
             ;
          
           
             For
             he
             in
             Person
             will
             his
             People
             head
          
           
             And
             out
             from
             Babylon
             his
             rescu'd
             Captives
             lead
             .
          
           
             He
             will
             from
             Heav'n
             descend
             to
             free
          
           
             The
             Nations
             from
             Infernal
             Slavery
             .
          
           
             He
             'll
             bring
             them
             out
             by
             Miracles
             of
             Might
          
           
             From
             Pagan
             Darkness
             to
             Celestial
             Light.
             
          
        
         
           
             Sink
             every
             Mountain
             ,
             every
             Hill
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             their
             Ruins
             every
             vally
             fill
             .
          
           
             Smooth
             every
             rugged
             ,
             rocky
             place
             ,
          
           
             And
             every
             narrow
             De●ile
             enlarge
             ,
          
           
             For
             God
             this
             way
             in
             Triumph
             means
             to
             pass
             ,
          
           
             As
             he
             from
             Babylon
             conducts
             his
             Charge
             .
          
           
           
             Make
             an
             open
             ,
             easy
             way
             ,
          
           
             Where
             God
             his
             Glory
             may
             display
             ;
          
           
             For
             the
             Divine
             Deliverer
          
           
             Will
             on
             his
             March
             in
             Majesty
             appear
             .
          
           
             His
             high
             Perfections
             he
             'll
             reveal
             ,
             and
             shew
          
           
             Th'
             astonish'd
             World
             what
             Wonders
             he
             can
             do
             .
          
           
             That
             he
             'll
             effect
             this
             mighty
             Work
             ,
             the
             Lord
          
           
             Has
             giv'n
             his
             never-failing
             Word
             .
          
        
         
           
             Th'
             Almighty
             bid
             his
             Prophet
             say
             ,
          
           
             All
             Men
             are
             subject
             to
             decay
             ,
          
           
             And
             wither
             ,
             like
             the
             Grass
             ,
             away
             .
          
           
             To
             every
             Storm
             or
             Blast
             they
             yield
             ,
          
           
             And
             fade
             ,
             like
             Flowers
             ,
             that
             paint
             the
             Field
             ;
          
           
             But
             the
             Almighty's
             Word
             shall
             stand
             secure
             ,
          
           
             And
             like
             himself
             for
             ever
             shall
             endure
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               O
               Zion
            
             !
             whose
             impending
             ,
             airy
             Brow
          
           
             Surveys
             the
             Hills
             ,
             as
             well
             as
             Vales
             below
             .
          
           
             The
             joyful
             Tydings
             thou
             hast
             got
             ,
             impart
          
           
             To
             raise
             my
             People's
             drooping
             Heart
             .
          
           
             Lift
             up
             thy
             Voice
             and
             let
             the
             Ecchoing
             sound
          
           
             From
             Wood
             to
             Wood
             ,
             from
             Hill
             to
             Hill
             rebound
             ,
          
           
             And
             ring
             thro'
             all
             the
             Vales
             and
             all
             the
             Towns
             around
             .
          
           
             Cry
             with
             a
             loud
             and
             fearless
             Voice
             ,
          
           
             Let
             ▪
             all
             thy
             Cities
             ,
             Palestine
             ,
             rejoyce
             .
          
           
             Your
             sinking
             Heads
             ye
             Towns
             of
             Iudah
             reer
          
           
             Behold
             your
             God
             your
             great
             Deliverer
          
           
             In
             Person
             to
             your
             Aid
             advances
             near
             .
          
           
           
             See
             where
             th'
             Almighty
             Conq'rour
             takes
             the
             Field
             ;
          
           
             In
             his
             strong
             Hand
             what
             Terrors
             does
             he
             wield
             ?
          
           
             How
             dreadful
             are
             his
             Steps
             ?
             how
             bright
             his
             Sword
             and
             Shield
             ?
          
           
             See
             how
             the
             Forrests
             at
             his
             Presence
             bow
          
           
             How
             silently
             the
             Rivers
             flow
             .
          
           
             How
             do
             the
             Plains
             ,
             thro'
             which
             he
             marches
             ,
             smoke
             !
          
           
             How
             do
             the
             troubled
             Mountains
             rock
             !
          
           
             He
             needs
             the
             Aid
             of
             no
             Confed'rate
             Pow'r
             ,
          
           
             His
             single
             Arms
             will
             Victory
             ensure
             .
          
           
             He
             brings
             to
             crown
             the
             Just
             a
             bright
             Reward
             ,
          
           
             And
             for
             the
             Wicked
             Vengeance
             has
             prepar'd
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             as
             a
             faithful
             Shepherd
             ,
             will
             attend
          
           
             His
             Flock
             with
             tender
             Care
             ,
             and
             condescend
          
           
             To
             carry
             in
             his
             Arms
             the
             Feeble
             Lambs
             ,
          
           
             And
             gently
             lead
             the
             pregnant
             Dams
             .
          
           
             His
             People
             in
             his
             Word
             may
             rest
             secure
             ,
          
           
             For
             Boundless
             ,
             as
             his
             Mercy
             ,
             is
             his
             Pow'r
             .
          
        
         
           
             In
             the
             wide
             hollow
             of
             his
             Hand
             may
             sleep
          
           
             All
             the
             collected
             Waters
             of
             the
             Deep
             :
          
           
             Let
             all
             the
             Rivers
             too
             be
             thither
             roll'd
             ,
          
           
             The
             vast
             Abyss
             will
             yet
             more
             Seas
             and
             Rivers
             hold
             .
          
           
             His
             Span
             across
             the
             widest
             Heav'ns
             can
             stretch
             ,
          
           
             And
             the
             vast
             Void
             beyond
             'em
             over-reach
             .
          
           
             The
             Rocks
             and
             Hills
             he
             in
             a
             Ballance
             lays
          
           
             And
             high
             amid'st
             the
             Air
             th'
             uplifted
             Mountains
             weighs
             .
          
           
             This
             Globe
             when
             held
             in
             his
             Capacious
             Hand
             ,
          
           
             Seems
             a
             small
             Atome
             ,
             or
             a
             single
             Sand.
             
          
        
         
           
           
             When
             God
             the
             Draughts
             of
             Heav'n
             and
             Earth
             design'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             form'd
             the
             noble
             Platform
             in
             his
             Mind
             ,
          
           
             Did
             any
             skilful
             Architect
          
           
             Help
             him
             his
             wondrous
             Model
             to
             correct
             ?
          
           
             When
             he
             the
             World's
             Foundations
             laid
          
           
             And
             rais'd
             the
             lofty
             Pillars
             with
             his
             Hand
             ,
          
           
             To
             give
             him
             or
             Advice
             or
             Aid
          
           
             Did
             any
             Wise
             Surveyor
             by
             him
             stand
             ?
          
           
             Did
             he
             from
             any
             ,
             Counsel
             need
          
           
             How
             in
             Creation
             to
             proceed
             ?
          
           
             When
             by
             a
             thousand
             Wonders
             wrought
          
           
             His
             vast
             Design
             was
             to
             perfection
             brought
             ,
          
           
             What
             Councellour
             of
             State
             did
             him
             instruct
          
           
             The
             World
             his
             Creature
             to
             conduct
             ?
          
           
             Who
             taught
             him
             how
             the
             Universe
             to
             sway
             ,
          
           
             And
             form
             the
             Maxims
             of
             his
             Government
             ,
          
           
             To
             settle
             Nature
             in
             a
             stedy
             Way
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             destructive
             Uproar
             to
             prevent
             ?
          
           
             How
             ,
             where
             ten
             thousand
             Creatures
             disagree
             ,
          
           
             To
             make
             their
             Motions
             end
             in
             perfect
             Harmony
             ?
          
           
             How
             with
             unerring
             Methods
             to
             pursue
          
           
             The
             glorious
             Ends
             he
             had
             at
             first
             in
             view
             ?
          
        
         
           
             God
             does
             the
             Nations
             of
             the
             World
             regard
          
           
             As
             a
             small
             drop
             with
             the
             vast
             Deep
             compar'd
             ;
          
           
             Or
             Dust
             that
             in
             the
             Ballance
             gives
             no
             Weight
          
           
             To
             press
             the
             Scale
             and
             change
             its
             equal
             State.
          
           
             God
             by
             their
             rocky
             Roots
             takes
             up
             the
             Hills
             ,
          
           
             And
             from
             their
             Oazy
             Beds
             the
             Isles
             .
          
           
           
             He
             hurls
             them
             from
             their
             former
             Seat
             ,
          
           
             As
             things
             of
             neither
             Bulk
             ,
             nor
             Weight
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               O
               Lebanon
            
             whose
             spacious
             Head
          
           
             Is
             with
             aspiring
             Cedars
             spread
             ,
          
           
             With
             Wood
             sufficient
             is
             thy
             Forrest
             stor'd
             ,
          
           
             Or
             can
             it
             Beasts
             enough
             afford
          
           
             For
             a
             Burnt
             off'ring
             for
             all
             Nature's
             Lord
             ?
          
           
             Against
             him
             should
             the
             Nations
             rise
          
           
             He
             would
             neglect
             their
             weak
             alarms
             ,
          
           
             This
             wretched
             Host
             of
             Worms
             he
             would
             despise
             ,
          
           
             And
             laugh
             at
             empty
             Vanity
             in
             Arms.
          
           
             If
             God
             the
             Spring
             of
             Life
             and
             Pow'r
          
           
             By
             whose
             supplys
             his
             various
             Worlds
             endure
             ,
          
           
             Held
             back
             his
             Streams
             ,
             Mankind
             would
             soon
             expire
             ,
          
           
             Dissolve
             ,
             and
             into
             nothing
             strait
             retire
             .
          
        
         
           
             Since
             his
             Perfections
             so
             transcendent
             are
             ,
          
           
             What
             Image
             can
             his
             Being
             represent
             ?
          
           
             What
             can
             you
             with
             Almighty
             Strength
             compare
             ?
          
           
             What
             Figure
             of
             Infinity
             invent
             ?
          
           
             The
             senseless
             Heathens
             to
             the
             Artist
             run
          
           
             Who
             deals
             in
             Deities
             of
             Wood
             and
             Stone
             ;
          
           
             The
             Fools
             bespeak
             an
             Antick
             lacker'd
             God
          
           
             To
             Guard
             their
             Persons
             ,
             and
             Abode
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             melted
             Metal
             in
             the
             Furnace
             flows
          
           
             Then
             in
             the
             Mould
             the
             stiff'ning
             Idol
             glows
             :
          
           
             And
             when
             their
             God
             grows
             Hard
             and
             Cold
             ,
          
           
             The
             Workman
             makes
             him
             fine
             ,
             and
             daubs
             him
             o'er
             with
             Gold.
          
           
           
             The
             Crowd
             their
             gaudy
             Deity
             admire
          
           
             Th'
             effect
             of
             Art
             ,
             the
             Creature
             of
             the
             Fire
             .
          
           
             Then
             least
             their
             Feeble
             God
             should
             fall
          
           
             With
             Silver
             Chains
             they
             fix
             him
             to
             the
             Wall.
          
           
             A
             likely
             Guardian
             this
             ,
             to
             save
          
           
             The
             Men
             ,
             that
             his
             Protection
             crave
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Man
             that
             's
             grown
             so
             Indigent
             and
             Poor
          
           
             He
             can't
             an
             Off'ring
             for
             his
             God
             procure
             ,
          
           
             To
             Idols
             he
             's
             so
             much
             inclind
             ,
          
           
             Will
             ways
             to
             get
             Materials
             find
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             engage
             the
             chiefest
             Artist's
             Care
          
           
             A
             Graven
             Image
             to
             prepare
             .
          
           
             Tho'
             after
             all
             his
             Cost
             and
             Pains
          
           
             The
             worthless
             Piece
             fixt
             in
             his
             Place
             remains
             .
          
           
             It
             can't
             advance
             a
             Step
             ,
             or
             move
             a
             Hand
          
           
             In
             his
             Defence
             that
             does
             his
             help
             demand
             .
          
        
         
           
             Ye
             Pagan
             Realms
             that
             cover'd
             lie
          
           
             With
             the
             thick
             Darkness
             of
             Idolatry
             ,
          
           
             How
             can
             a
             Truth
             to
             all
             reveal'd
             ,
          
           
             As
             clear
             as
             Day
             ,
             be
             still
             from
             you
             conceal'd
             ?
          
           
             That
             is
             ,
             that
             God's
             the
             only
             God
             ,
             to
             whom
          
           
             You
             should
             with
             humble
             Adoration
             come
             .
          
           
             The
             Starry
             Heav'ns
             which
             he
             has
             made
             ,
          
           
             The
             Earth
             whose
             deep
             Foundations
             he
             has
             laid
             ,
          
           
             His
             Being
             and
             his
             Majesty
             declare
             ,
          
           
             And
             shew
             how
             boundless
             his
             Perfection●
             are
             :
          
           
           
             Above
             the
             Circle
             of
             the
             Earth
             ,
             on
             high
          
           
             He
             sits
             enthro●'d
             amidst
             th'
             Emperial
             Sky
             ;
          
           
             Whence
             when
             he
             casts
             his
             Eyes
             around
             ,
          
           
             And
             views
             the
             Earth
             hung
             low
             in
             Air
             ,
          
           
             As
             little
             Insects
             creeping
             on
             the
             Ground
             ,
          
           
             Contemptible
             Mankind
             appear
             .
          
           
             The
             Heav'nly
             Sphears
             as
             Curtains
             he
             expands
             ,
          
           
             With
             Orbs
             of
             Light
             Magnificent
             ,
          
           
             His
             fine
             transparent
             Ether
             with
             his
             Hands
             ,
          
           
             He
             spreads
             to
             form
             his
             Royal
             Tent.
          
           
             He
             at
             his
             Pleasure
             can
             destroy
          
           
             The
             Kings
             that
             greatest
             Pow'r
             and
             Wealth
             enjoy
             .
          
           
             He
             can
             their
             royal
             Heads
             uncrown
          
           
             And
             from
             their
             Thrones
             can
             cast
             them
             headlong
             down
             .
          
           
             Deep
             Root
             they
             shall
             not
             take
             nor
             spread
          
           
             Amidst
             the
             Clouds
             their
             shady
             Head.
          
           
             Blasted
             ,
             and
             with
             th'
             Almighty's
             Breath
             opprest
             ,
          
           
             As
             with
             a
             furious
             Tempest
             from
             the
             East
             ,
          
           
             Their
             ruin'd
             Branches
             shall
             decay
             ,
          
           
             And
             fade
             ,
             like
             with'ring
             Plants
             ,
             away
             .
          
        
         
           
             Where
             then
             ,
             says
             God
             ,
             can
             Men
             my
             Equal
             see
             ?
          
           
             What
             Object
             can
             resemble
             me
             ?
          
           
             Lift
             up
             ,
             O
             Man
             ,
             on
             high
             thy
             wond'ring
             Eyes
             ,
          
           
             Regard
             the
             Palace
             of
             the
             Holy
             One
             ,
          
           
             View
             the
             bright
             Constellations
             of
             the
             Skies
          
           
             Where
             he
             has
             ●ixt
             his
             Adamantine
             Throne
             .
          
           
             Did
             not
             th'
             Eternal
             from
             th'
             Abyss
             of
             Night
          
           
             Call
             forth
             those
             Heav'ns
             ,
             and
             all
             those
             Orbs
             of
             Light
             ?
          
           
           
             Do
             they
             not
             run
             their
             Courses
             and
             dispence
          
           
             At
             his
             Command
             their
             Light
             and
             Influence
             ?
          
           
             He
             their
             great
             Gen'ral
             Day
             by
             Day
          
           
             Draws
             out
             his
             glitt'ring
             Armys
             in
             Array
             .
          
           
             In
             constant
             Musters
             on
             th'
             Etherial
             Plains
          
           
             The
             Squadrons
             he
             reviews
             ,
             and
             all
             their
             Posts
             ordains
             .
          
           
             As
             Master
             of
             his
             Starry
             Family
             ,
          
           
             He
             calls
             his
             shining
             Servants
             out
             by
             Name
             ,
          
           
             Gives
             them
             their
             Tasks
             to
             which
             they
             all
             agree
             ,
          
           
             Whereby
             his
             Pow'r
             and
             Greatness
             they
             proclaim
             .
          
        
         
           
             Why
             dost
             thou
             say
             ,
             O
             Iacob
             ,
             I
             complain
             ,
          
           
             And
             make
             to
             God
             my
             moan
             in
             Vain
             .
          
           
             He
             to
             my
             Sorrow
             no
             Compassion
             shows
             ,
          
           
             Neglects
             my
             Tears
             ,
             and
             disregards
             my
             Woes
             .
          
           
             The
             proud
             Oppressors
             cruel
             Yoke
          
           
             Does
             not
             his
             vengeful
             Wrath
             provoke
             .
          
           
             I
             am
             no
             more
             th'
             Almighty's
             Care
             ,
          
           
             Else
             he
             would
             hear
             my
             mournful
             Pray'r
             ,
          
           
             And
             not
             desert
             me
             in
             my
             deep
             Despair
             .
          
           
             He
             'll
             be
             no
             more
             my
             Advocate
             ,
          
           
             My
             Cause
             to
             manage
             in
             debate
             .
          
           
             He
             will
             no
             more
             my
             Injuries
             redress
             ,
          
           
             No
             more
             condemn
             my
             Foes
             ,
             who
             me
             oppress
             .
          
           
             He
             's
             pleas'd
             so
             long
             his
             People
             to
             disown
             ,
          
           
             That
             now
             our
             Case
             is
             desp'rate
             grown
             .
          
           
             Now
             ,
             if
             he
             would
             ,
             he
             can't
             assistance
             give
             ,
          
           
             We
             're
             ruin'd
             ,
             and
             undone
             ,
             past
             all
             retrieve
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             O
             ,
             dost
             thou
             not
             unthoughtful
             Iacob
             ,
             know
          
           
             Who
             made
             the
             Heav'ns
             above
             and
             Earth
             below
             ?
          
           
             Did
             not
             thy
             God
             ,
             th'
             Eternal
             Lord
          
           
             Create
             them
             with
             his
             great
             commanding
             Word
             ?
          
           
             He
             rules
             the
             World
             he
             made
             ,
             with
             equal
             Laws
             ,
          
           
             Will
             such
             a
             God
             desert
             his
             Peoples
             Cause
             ?
          
           
             Will
             he
             that
             all
             things
             wisely
             does
             direct
             ,
          
           
             His
             People's
             Interests
             neglect
             ,
          
           
             Will
             he
             their
             Suff'rings
             slight
             ,
             and
             earnest
             Pray'rs
             reject
             ?
          
        
         
           
             He
             grows
             not
             faint
             ,
             nor
             does
             his
             Vigour
             wast
          
           
             With
             Age
             ,
             or
             with
             his
             Labour
             past
             .
          
           
             His
             undeclining
             Strength
             feels
             no
             decay
             ,
          
           
             Still
             can
             he
             punish
             those
             who
             disobey
             .
          
           
             He
             can
             as
             strong
             an
             arm
             as
             e'er
             extend
          
           
             To
             crush
             his
             Foes
             ,
             his
             People
             to
             defend
             .
          
           
             Nor
             dos
             he
             with
             a
             less
             attentive
             Ear
          
           
             The
             Crys
             of
             guiltless
             Suff'rers
             hear
             :
          
           
             But
             then
             the
             Seasons
             of
             Deliv'rance
             rest
          
           
             As
             Secrets
             in
             th'
             Almighty's
             Breast
             .
          
           
             The
             Depths
             of
             Providence
             are
             fathomless
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             will
             its
             Heights
             admit
             access
             ,
          
           
             And
             therefore
             in
             his
             Pleasure
             Man
             must
             Acquiesce
             .
          
           
             He
             to
             his
             People
             still
             Deliv'rance
             sends
          
           
             When
             it
             promotes
             their
             Good
             ,
             and
             serves
             his
             glorious
             Ends.
          
           
             His
             Counsels
             ,
             which
             so
             far
             exceed
             our
             reach
             ,
          
           
             Sould
             Patience
             and
             Submission
             teach
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             He
             gives
             supplies
             of
             Pow'r
             to
             those
             that
             want
             ,
          
           
             Strengthens
             the
             Feeble
             and
             revives
             the
             Faint
             .
          
           
             The
             Youngest
             Men
             in
             whose
             distended
             Veins
             ,
          
           
             And
             brawny
             Nerves
             Athletic
             Vigor
             reigns
             ,
          
           
             If
             they
             on
             God
             should
             not
             rely
             ,
          
           
             Would
             quickly
             languish
             ,
             sink
             and
             die
             .
          
           
             But
             those
             who
             humbly
             on
             his
             Strength
             depend
             ,
          
           
             Their
             stock
             of
             Vigor
             ne'er
             shall
             spend
             .
          
           
             He
             'll
             reinforce
             them
             with
             recruits
             of
             Pow'r
             ,
          
           
             And
             their
             decaying
             Strength
             restore
             .
          
           
             They
             shall
             on
             Wings
             like
             Eagles
             mount
             on
             high
             ▪
          
           
             And
             with
             like
             force
             and
             swiftness
             cut
             the
             Sky
             .
          
           
             They
             shall
             or
             Walk
             or
             Run
             ,
             still
             forward
             press
             ,
          
           
             And
             ne'er
             complain
             of
             Weariness
             .
          
           
             God
             daily
             shall
             their
             Strength
             encrease
             ,
          
           
             That
             they
             their
             Burdens
             may
             sustain
             with
             Ease
             ,
          
           
             Till
             he
             shall
             chuse
             his
             time
             his
             Captives
             to
             release
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
         
           Part
           of
           the
           LII
           And
           the
           whole
           LIII
           Chap.
           of
           Isaiah
           ,
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
        
         
           
             MY
             Servant
             shall
             acquire
             divine
             Renown
             ,
          
           
             And
             regal
             Honours
             shall
             his
             Temples
             crown
             .
          
           
             Kings
             at
             his
             Feet
             their
             Diadems
             shall
             lay
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             the
             willing
             World
             his
             Empire
             shall
             obey
             .
          
           
             His
             Godlike
             Government
             and
             righteous
             Laws
          
           
             From
             Men
             and
             Angels
             shall
             receive
             applause
             .
          
           
             He
             shall
             his
             own
             and
             Subjects
             Rights
             maintain
             ,
          
           
             Protect
             his
             Friends
             ,
             Oppressors
             rage
             restrain
             ,
          
           
             And
             everlasting
             Peace
             shall
             bless
             his
             glorious
             Reign
             .
          
           
             As
             Men
             at
             his
             Affliction
             were
             amaz'd
          
           
             And
             on
             his
             wondrous
             Woe
             with
             Horror
             gaz'd
             ,
          
           
             (
             Whose
             Face
             was
             so
             deform'd
             ,
             his
             Flesh
             so
             worn
          
           
             With
             all
             the
             Toyl
             and
             Torments
             he
             had
             born
             ,
          
           
             No
             Eye
             e'er
             saw
             ,
             no
             Tongue
             can
             e'er
             express
          
           
             Such
             perfect
             Grief
             such
             infinite
             distress
             .
             )
          
           
             So
             shall
             he
             be
             exalted
             and
             his
             height
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             bear
             proportion
             to
             his
             humble
             state
             .
          
        
         
           
             His
             Heav'nly
             Doctrines
             on
             the
             Nations
             round
          
           
             Shall
             fall
             as
             dropping
             Rain
             upon
             the
             Ground
             .
          
           
           
             Attentive
             Monarchs
             with
             a
             greedy
             Ear
          
           
             Shall
             all
             his
             wise
             Divine
             Instructions
             hear
             .
          
           
             They
             'll
             with
             profound
             Humility
             receive
          
           
             The
             Oracles
             and
             Counsels
             he
             shall
             give
             .
          
           
             No
             more
             their
             impious
             Tongues
             shall
             him
             condemn
             ,
          
           
             No
             more
             Religion
             or
             its
             God
             blaspheme
             .
          
           
             His
             Godlike
             Wisdom
             they
             shall
             all
             adore
             ,
          
           
             And
             joyful
             Tydings
             hear
             they
             never
             heard
             before
             .
          
           
             Tydings
             that
             new
             and
             wondrous
             Things
             assert
             ,
          
           
             That
             God
             the
             Nations
             will
             at
             length
             convert
          
           
             And
             of
             his
             Kingdom
             make
             the
             Heathen
             World
             a
             part
             .
          
        
         
           
             CH.
             LIII
             .
          
           
             
               When
               the
               Messiah
               by
               his
               Love
               inclin'd
            
             
               And
               tender
               Mercy
               mov'd
               to
               lost
               Mankind
               ,
            
             
               From
               his
               Immortal
               Throne
               on
               high
               descends
            
             
               To
               compass
               all
               his
               great
               and
               glorious
               Ends
               ,
            
             
               Who
               in
               the
               blest
               Redeemer
               will
               believe
               ?
            
             
               who
               'll
               the
               Divine
               Commissioner
               receive
               ,
            
             
               Or
               to
               his
               Heav'nly
               Message
               Credit
               give
               ?
            
             
               He
               'll
               not
               advance
               in
               Pomp
               and
               regal
               State
               ,
            
             
               No
               shouting
               Crowds
               shall
               on
               his
               Chariot
               wait
               .
            
             
               No
               Harbengers
               or
               Heralds
               shall
               proclaim
            
             
               His
               coming
               down
               ,
               and
               spread
               abroad
               his
               Fame
               .
            
             
               He
               shall
               no
               Guards
               ,
               no
               long
               Retinue
               take
            
             
               Like
               earthly
               Kings
               that
               Publick
               Entrys
               make
               .
            
             
               He
               'll
               not
               as
               Lords
               and
               mighty
               Conq'rours
               do
               ,
            
             
               Vast
               Armys
               head
               the
               Nations
               to
               subdue
               ,
            
             
               And
               found
               an
               Empire
               for
               th'
               ambitious
               Jew
               .
            
             
             
               Mean
               and
               obscure
               shall
               be
               my
               Servants
               Birth
               ,
            
             
               As
               that
               of
               Plants
               in
               dry
               and
               barren
               Earth
               .
            
             
               Expecting
               some
               great
               Gen'ral
               should
               arise
            
             
               The
               Jews
               his
               Poor
               Extraction
               shall
               despise
               .
            
             
               They
               will
               his
               Sacred
               Person
               too
               condemn
               ,
            
             
               And
               the
               great
               Pow'r
               and
               Word
               of
               God
               blaspheme
               .
            
             
               As
               his
               Condition
               and
               his
               Birth
               are
               low
               ,
            
             
               Mean
               and
               despis'd
               ,
               his
               Person
               too
               is
               so
               .
            
             
               They
               'll
               in
               his
               Face
               no
               Air
               of
               Greatness
               see
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               in
               his
               M●en
               the
               marks
               of
               Majesty
               .
            
             
               He
               'll
               by
               uncommon
               Beauty
               ne'er
               be
               known
            
             
               Distinguish'd
               by
               Calamity
               alone
               .
            
             
               His
               Presence
               will
               not
               cause
               or
               Love
               ,
               or
               Aw
               ,
            
             
               But
               great
               Contempt
               from
               all
               Spectators
               draw
               .
            
             
               Hence
               Men
               will
               my
               Commissioner
               neglect
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               his
               gracious
               Overtures
               reject
               .
            
             
               His
               Life
               shall
               be
               but
               one
               continu'd
               Chain
            
             
               Of
               Labour
               ,
               Sorrow
               ,
               and
               consuming
               Pain
               .
            
             
               He
               dayly
               shall
               converse
               with
               Grief
               and
               Woe
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               Affliction
               shall
               familiar
               grow
               .
            
             
               Unmeasured
               Suff'rings
               ,
               exquisite
               Distress
               ,
            
             
               And
               pondrous
               Trouble
               shall
               his
               Soul
               oppress
               .
            
             
               These
               sad
               Companions
               shall
               around
               him
               stay
               ,
            
             
               Consume
               his
               Flesh
               and
               on
               his
               Vitals
               prey
               .
            
          
           
             
               Th'
               obdurate
               Jews
               my
               Servant
               will
               defame
               ,
            
             
               And
               of
               his
               low
               Estate
               express
               their
               Shame
               .
            
             
               The
               guiltless
               ,
               just
               and
               wondrous
               Man
               shall
               bear
            
             
               Such
               heavy
               Grief
               and
               Torments
               so
               severe
            
             
             
               Th'
               Almighty's
               high
               displeasure
               to
               atone
            
             
               For
               other
               Mens
               Transgressions
               ,
               not
               his
               own
               .
            
             
               He
               shall
               the
               whole
               Collected
               Guilt
               assume
            
             
               Of
               lost
               Mankind
               ,
               and
               suffer
               in
               their
               room
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               will
               the
               spiteful
               Jew
               blaspheme
               ,
               and
               say
            
             
               That
               God
               did
               all
               this
               Vengeance
               on
               him
               lay
            
             
               To
               punish
               his
               enormous
               Crimes
               ,
               who
               ne'er
            
             
               Was
               known
               from
               Virtue
               's
               strictest
               Rule
               to
               err
               .
            
             
               No
               ,
               our
               Offences
               all
               his
               Pains
               procure
               ,
            
             
               For
               our
               Transgressions
               he
               'll
               his
               Wounds
               endure
               .
            
             
               By
               his
               most
               free
               and
               merciful
               Consent
            
             
               He
               'll
               undergo
               the
               mighty
               Punishment
            
             
               Due
               to
               the
               Sins
               of
               Men
               ,
               and
               so
               remove
            
             
               Th'
               Almighty's
               Wrath
               ,
               and
               make
               our
               Peace
               above
               .
            
             
               He
               on
               his
               Guiltless
               self
               our
               Guilt
               shall
               take
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               his
               Suff'rings
               full
               attonement
               make
               .
            
             
               By
               his
               sharp
               Stripes
               he
               'll
               Ease
               to
               us
               procure
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               his
               Death
               Eternal
               Life
               ensure
               .
            
          
           
             
               Since
               Adam
               fell
               ,
               all
               his
               degenerate
               Kind
            
             
               The
               Heav'nly
               Paths
               of
               Virtue
               have
               declin'd
               :
            
             
               Fond
               of
               their
               own
               pernicious
               ,
               sinful
               way
            
             
               They
               're
               lost
               like
               straggling
               Sheep
               and
               gone
               astray
               .
            
             
               All-gracious
               God
               has
               on
               his
               Servant
               laid
            
             
               The
               Sins
               of
               all
               ,
               for
               all
               have
               disobey'd
               .
            
             
               All
               the
               black
               Streams
               of
               Guilt
               do
               hither
               flow
            
             
               As
               all
               the
               Rivers
               to
               the
               Ocean
               go
               .
            
             
               He
               that
               so
               vast
               a
               load
               would
               not
               decline
               ,
            
             
               Must
               sure
               be
               conscious
               of
               a
               Strength
               Divine
               .
            
             
             
               Justice
               incens'd
               did
               Punishment
               demand
               ,
            
             
               Exacting
               Payment
               at
               th'
               offenders
               Hand
               :
            
             
               And
               since
               we
               could
               not
               pay
               so
               great
               a
               Sum
               ,
            
             
               The
               blest
               Messiah
               Surety
               did
               become
               .
            
             
               He
               did
               himself
               the
               mighty
               Debt
               discharge
            
             
               Due
               to
               offended
               Heav'n
               and
               Man
               enlarge
               .
            
             
               When
               God's
               Right-Hand
               with
               Vengeance
               arm'd
               ,
               design'd
            
             
               To
               execute
               his
               Wrath
               on
               Humane
               Kind
               ,
            
             
               He
               interposing
               ,
               on
               his
               Guiltless
               Head
            
             
               Receiv'd
               the
               Blow
               ,
               and
               suffer'd
               in
               our
               Stead
               .
            
             
               For
               as
               the
               harmless
               Sheep
               beneath
               the
               Shears
            
             
               Is
               Dumb
               ,
               and
               all
               his
               Suff'rings
               meekly
               bears
               ,
            
             
               Dos
               ev'n
               without
               Resistance
               ,
               Noise
               or
               Strife
            
             
               When
               to
               the
               Slaughter
               led
               ,
               lay
               down
               his
               Life
               :
            
             
               With
               like
               Submission
               does
               the
               Lamb
               of
               God
               ,
            
             
               Bear
               furious
               Persecution's
               Iron
               Rod.
            
             
               In
               prosecution
               of
               his
               blest
               design
            
             
               His
               Pains
               he
               'll
               undergo
               ,
               his
               Life
               resign
            
             
               Serene
               as
               Heav'n
               ,
               and
               mild
               as
               Love
               Divine
               .
            
          
           
             
               'T
               is
               true
               ,
               at
               last
               he
               shall
               surmount
               his
               Woes
               ,
            
             
               Break
               all
               the
               Pow'rs
               ,
               that
               his
               high
               Aims
               oppose
               ,
            
             
               And
               Triumph
               o'er
               the
               Malice
               of
               his
               Foes
               .
            
             
               He
               'll
               from
               the
               Iron
               Prisons
               of
               the
               Dead
               ,
            
             
               And
               from
               the
               Dust
               raise
               his
               Victorious
               Head
               ▪
            
             
               He
               shall
               with
               brighter
               Glory
               to
               the
               Skys
            
             
               After
               a
               red
               and
               bloody
               Seting
               rise
               .
            
             
               The
               Conq'rour
               shall
               ascend
               in
               Royal
               State
               ,
            
             
               And
               Death
               it self
               in
               Chains
               shall
               on
               him
               wait
               ▪
            
             
             
               When
               thus
               Exalted
               he
               shall
               live
               to
               see
            
             
               A
               numberless
               believing
               Progeny
               .
            
             
               Of
               his
               Adopted
               Sons
               the
               Godlike
               Race
            
             
               Exceed
               the
               Stars
               that
               Heav'n's
               high
               Arches
               grace
               .
            
             
               A
               willing
               Victim
               he
               resign'd
               his
               Breath
            
             
               In
               all
               the
               Tortures
               of
               a
               ling'ring
               Death
               .
            
             
               To
               suffer
               as
               a
               Criminal
               convey'd
               .
            
             
               The
               Grave
               his
               Bed
               he
               with
               the
               Wicked
               made
               .
            
             
               Tho'
               so
               much
               Pain
               and
               Shame
               he
               underwent
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               was
               he
               Righteous
               ,
               Pure
               and
               Innocent
               .
            
             
               He
               all
               his
               Ignominious
               Torments
               bore
               ,
            
             
               Man
               to
               his
               Maker's
               Favour
               to
               restore
               .
            
             
               To
               raise
               laps'd
               
               Adam's
               Race
               from
               Death
               and
               Hell
            
             
               To
               the
               most
               happy
               State
               from
               whence
               they
               fell
               .
            
          
           
             
               Tho'
               he
               was
               just
               and
               spotless
               ,
               yet
               his
               God
            
             
               Was
               pleas'd
               to
               bruise
               and
               wound
               him
               with
               his
               Rod.
            
             
               When
               that
               a
               Ransom
               may
               for
               Man
               be
               paid
            
             
               He
               of
               his
               Life
               an
               Off'ring
               shall
               have
               made
               ,
            
             
               He
               from
               the
               Grave
               shall
               as
               a
               Conq'rour
               come
               ,
            
             
               And
               next
               his
               Father's
               Throne
               his
               former
               Seat
               resume
               .
            
             
               Where
               he
               shall
               dwell
               secure
               from
               Death
               and
               Pain
               ,
            
             
               And
               endless
               ,
               as
               his
               Life
               ,
               shall
               be
               his
               Reign
               .
            
             
               A
               numerous
               Seed
               a
               pure
               and
               Godlike
               Line
            
             
               Breathing
               Repentance
               ,
               and
               Belief
               Divine
               ,
            
             
               Quicken'd
               by
               his
               Prolifi●
               Death
               shall
               crown
            
             
               His
               Suff'rings
               past
               ,
               and
               him
               their
               Father
               own
               .
            
             
               His
               work
               compleated
               he
               'll
               with
               great
               content
            
             
               Review
               the
               Torments
               which
               he
               underwent
               .
            
             
             
               He
               shall
               enjoy
               the
               Travel
               of
               his
               Soul
               ;
            
             
               Pleas'd
               to
               have
               drank
               th'
               Almighty's
               wrathful
               Bowl
               .
            
             
               The
               Glory
               of
               his
               Father
               he
               'll
               regard
            
             
               And
               Man's
               Redemption
               as
               a
               ful
               reward
               .
            
             
               For
               by
               his
               Knowledge
               and
               Celestial
               Grace
            
             
               〈◊〉
               many
               save
               of
               
               Adam's
               sinful
               Race
               .
            
             
               He
               of
               their
               Guilt
               shall
               the
               vast
               Burden
               bear
               ,
            
             
               Shall
               all
               their
               Debt
               by
               Sin
               contracted
               clear
               ,
            
             
               And
               at
               th'
               Almighty's
               Bar
               their
               Advocate
               appear
               .
            
          
           
             
               Therefore
               th'
               Eternal
               said
               ,
               above
               the
               Skys
            
             
               My
               righteous
               Servant
               shall
               in
               Triumph
               rise
               .
            
             
               He
               with
               the
               Mighty
               and
               the
               Great
               shall
               share
            
             
               Renown
               ,
               Applauses
               ,
               and
               the
               Spoils
               of
               War.
            
             
               Wide
               as
               the
               World
               shall
               be
               his
               regal
               Sway
               ,
            
             
               And
               subject
               Monarchs
               shall
               his
               Laws
               obey
               .
            
             
               He
               all
               triumphant
               Conq'rours
               shall
               excel
               ,
            
             
               Rich
               with
               the
               spoils
               of
               Death
               ,
               the
               Grave
               and
               Hell.
            
             
               His
               Chariot-Wheels
               shall
               drag
               along
               the
               ground
            
             
               Destruction
               ruin'd
               with
               a
               deadly
               Wound
               .
            
             
               Captivity
               expos'd
               to
               publick
               scorn
               ,
            
             
               A
               fetter'd
               Slave
               his
               triumph
               shall
               adorn
               .
            
             
               These
               Honours
               on
               my
               Servant
               I
               'll
               confer
               ,
            
             
               Because
               he
               chose
               the
               Pains
               of
               Death
               to
               bear
               ,
            
             
               From
               Man
               impending
               Vengeance
               to
               avert
               ,
            
             
               And
               of
               the
               ruin'd
               Race
               a
               chosen
               part
            
             
               To
               save
               from
               Death
               and
               Hell
               ,
               their
               due
               desert
               .
            
          
        
      
       
         
         
         
           THE
           III
           Ch.
           of
           Habakkuk
           .
           PARAPHRAS'D
           .
        
         
           
             AS
             God
             advanc'd
             from
             lofty
             
             Teman's
             Head
             ,
          
           
             And
             o'er
             the
             Plains
             of
             Paran
             came
             ,
          
           
             The
             Heav'ns
             around
             were
             with
             his
             glory
             spread
             ,
          
           
             And
             Wonders
             on
             the
             Earth
             his
             Presence
             did
             proclaim
             .
          
           
             He
             did
             the
             Marks
             of
             Majesty
             display
             ,
          
           
             And
             fearful
             Ensigns
             of
             Omnipotence
             ,
          
           
             Ten
             thousand
             Prodigys
             prepar'd
             his
             way
             ,
          
           
             Such
             Power
             th'
             Almighty
             did
             dispence
             .
          
        
         
           
             Torrents
             of
             Glory
             dazling
             bright
             ,
          
           
             Too
             fierce
             and
             keen
             for
             Humane
             Sight
          
           
             Broke
             from
             th'
             immense
             Abyss
             of
             uncreated
             Light.
          
           
             Ev'n
             from
             his
             Hands
             a
             bright
             Eruption
             came
             ,
          
           
             A
             pointed
             Efflux
             of
             Immortal
             Flame
             .
          
           
             Transcendant
             Splendor
             did
             th'
             Almighty
             shroud
             ;
          
           
             No
             less
             than
             did
             the
             thick
             surrounding
             Cloud
             .
          
           
             His
             Being
             thus
             lay
             hidden
             either
             way
             ,
          
           
             In
             too
             much
             Darkness
             ,
             or
             in
             too
             much
             Day
             .
          
        
         
           
             Of
             thirsty
             ,
             panting
             Plagues
             a
             fiery
             Train
             ,
          
           
             Pale
             Pestilence
             and
             yelling
             Pain
             ,
          
           
           
             His
             dreadful
             Equipage
             ,
             before
             him
             ran
             ,
          
           
             And
             of
             his
             Terrors
             led
             the
             Van.
          
           
             While
             Famine
             ,
             Desolation
             and
             Despair
             ,
          
           
             Wringing
             their
             Hands
             and
             tearing
             off
             their
             Hair
             ,
          
           
             A
             formidable
             Troop
             ,
             came
             howling
             in
             the
             Reer
             .
          
        
         
           
             Th'
             Almighty
             on
             the
             Frontiers
             made
             a
             stand
          
           
             To
             measure
             out
             the
             promis'd
             Land.
          
           
             He
             did
             distinctly
             circumscribe
          
           
             Th'
             Inheritance
             of
             every
             Tribe
             .
          
           
             That
             done
             the
             Nations
             he
             asunder
             drove
             ,
          
           
             And
             march'd
             the
             Lords
             of
             Canaan
             to
             remove
             .
          
        
         
           
             His
             swift-wing'd
             Whirlwinds
             onward
             flew
             ,
          
           
             And
             o'er
             the
             Hills
             his
             Chariot
             drew
             ;
          
           
             Whose
             awful
             Wheels
             roll'd
             on
             in
             Clouds
             and
             Smoke
             ,
          
           
             Whence
             Flakes
             of
             Fire
             and
             flashing
             Lightnings
             broke
             .
          
           
             Such
             Bolts
             were
             cast
             ,
             such
             Thunder
             claps
             did
             roar
             ,
          
           
             As
             shook
             the
             Rocks
             which
             never
             shook
             before
             .
          
           
             The
             shudd'ring
             Hills
             exprest
             their
             dread
          
           
             And
             everlasting
             Mountains
             bow'd
             their
             aged
             Head.
             
          
        
         
           
             When
             Isr'el
             march'd
             o'er
             dry
             
             Arabia's
             Sand
             ,
          
           
             By
             Moses
             led
             to
             
             Canaan's
             Land
             ,
          
           
             How
             were
             the
             States
             on
             either
             side
          
           
             At
             their
             approach
             alarm'd
             and
             terrify'd
             ?
          
           
             How
             did
             the
             Tents
             of
             Cushan
             shake
             ?
          
           
             How
             did
             the
             Kings
             of
             Midian
             quake
             ?
          
           
             How
             did
             they
             dread
             the
             Fame
             of
             
             Isr'el's
             God
             ,
          
           
             And
             his
             great
             Gen'ral's
             wonder-working
             Rod
             ?
          
           
           
             That
             Rod
             which
             turn'd
             to
             Crystal
             Walls
             the
             Flood
             ,
          
           
             Its
             Virtue
             still
             retains
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             the
             trembling
             Heathens
             Veins
          
           
             Chills
             and
             congeals
             their
             Vital
             Streams
             of
             Blood
             ▪
          
        
         
           
             Did
             e'er
             the
             Rivers
             God
             displease
             ?
          
           
             Or
             did
             his
             Anger
             rise
             against
             the
             Seas
             ,
          
           
             That
             he
             their
             Waters
             did
             divide
             ,
          
           
             And
             roll'd
             them
             up
             on
             Heaps
             on
             either
             side
             ,
          
           
             When
             he
             prepar'd
             his
             warlike
             Equipage
          
           
             His
             Chariots
             and
             his
             Horse
             King
             Pharoah
             to
             engage
             ?
          
           
             No
             ,
             those
             amazing
             Miracles
             were
             shown
          
           
             To
             make
             his
             kindness
             to
             his
             People
             known
             .
          
           
             His
             Chariots
             and
             his
             Horsemen
             brought
          
           
             Salvation
             to
             the
             Tribes
             ,
             for
             whom
             he
             fought
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             did
             his
             fatal
             Bow
             prepare
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             his
             dreadful
             Instruments
             of
             War
             ,
          
           
             Which
             put
             the
             Pagan
             Lords
             to
             flight
          
           
             And
             from
             their
             Country
             chas'd
             the
             Cananite
             .
          
           
             Thus
             to
             his
             Promise
             God
             was
             true
          
           
             Which
             to
             the
             Tribes
             he
             did
             so
             oft
             renew
             .
          
        
         
           
             As
             
             Israel's
             Host
             advanc'd
             to
             
             Canaan's
             Land
             ,
          
           
             Opprest
             with
             drought
             amidst
             the
             Sand.
          
           
             Refreshing
             Streams
             were
             in
             the
             Desart
             found
             ,
          
           
             And
             bubbling
             Springs
             broke
             from
             the
             thirsty
             Ground
             .
          
           
             Instead
             of
             Fire
             th'
             Almighty
             struck
          
           
             Fresh
             Water
             from
             the
             Flinty
             Rock
             .
          
           
           
             When
             God
             in
             Triumph
             did
             appear
             ,
          
           
             The
             lofty
             Mountains
             shook
             for
             fear
             .
          
           
             Iordan
             held
             back
             his
             cleaving
             Flood
          
           
             And
             high
             in
             Craggy
             Heaps
             the
             Crystal
             Waters
             stood
             .
          
           
             Bare
             and
             defrauded
             of
             its
             Tyde
             ,
          
           
             The
             sandy
             Chanel
             lay
             from
             side
             to
             side
             ;
          
           
             This
             Passage
             for
             the
             Tribes
             th'
             Almighty
             did
             provide
             .
          
           
             Th'
             obsequious
             Deep
             did
             raise
             its
             roaring
             Voice
          
           
             And
             split
             asunder
             with
             prodigious
             noise
          
           
             It
             shew'd
             as
             if
             by
             lifting
             up
             the
             Hand
          
           
             It
             's
             Readiness
             t'
             obey
             the
             high
             Command
             .
          
        
         
           
             At
             God's
             command
             the
             restless
             Sun
          
           
             That
             as
             a
             Gyant
             loves
             his
             Course
             to
             run
             ,
          
           
             Did
             in
             his
             full
             Carreer
             his
             Chariot
             stay
          
           
             On
             Heav'ns
             Descent
             ,
             and
             stopt
             the
             falling
             Day
             .
          
           
             Progressive
             Time
             was
             at
             a
             stand
             ,
          
           
             His
             drooping
             Wings
             unable
             to
             expand
             .
          
           
             The
             Constellations
             ,
             and
             th'
             astonish'd
             Moon
             ,
          
           
             Halted
             to
             gaze
             upon
             the
             standing
             Sun.
          
           
             So
             long
             its
             ling'ring
             Orb
             its
             Light
             did
             lend
          
           
             As
             
             Ioshuah's
             Troops
             had
             Spears
             to
             spend
             ;
          
           
             As
             long
             as
             they
             had
             Darts
             to
             cast
             away
             ,
          
           
             Or
             there
             remain'd
             a
             Foe
             to
             slay
             .
          
        
         
           
             In
             Indignation
             God
             thro'
             Canaan
             past
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             his
             terrible
             alarms
          
           
             And
             Conq'ring
             Arms
          
           
             He
             chas'd
             the
             Kings
             ,
             and
             laid
             the
             Nations
             wast
             .
          
           
           
             Isr'els
             Salvation
             to
             compleat
          
           
             He
             onward
             march'd
             the
             Heathen
             to
             defeat
             .
          
           
             To
             save
             his
             People
             and
             to
             crown
          
           
             Great
             
             Iosua's
             Arms
             with
             Triumph
             and
             Renown
             ,
          
           
             To
             
             Canaan's
             Kings
             he
             gave
             a
             deadly
             Wound
          
           
             And
             did
             their
             Friends
             and
             Familys
             confound
             .
          
           
             He
             overthrew
             their
             Palaces
          
           
             Th'
             Imperial
             Seats
             of
             Pride
             and
             Wickedness
             .
          
           
             He
             broke
             the
             Pillars
             that
             sustain'd
             their
             weight
             ,
          
           
             And
             raz'd
             the
             strong
             Foundations
             of
             their
             State.
             
          
        
         
           
             God
             did
             by
             
             Isr'el's
             Arms
             subdue
          
           
             Their
             Towns
             and
             all
             their
             Villages
             o'erthrew
             .
          
           
             Tho'
             at
             the
             first
             the
             Nations
             round
             arose
          
           
             And
             like
             a
             Tempest
             did
             our
             March
             oppose
             ,
          
           
             They
             onward
             came
             with
             Shouts
             of
             Joy
          
           
             As
             sure
             the
             Tribes
             they
             should
             destroy
             :
          
           
             They
             did
             our
             Army
             so
             much
             slight
          
           
             They
             thought
             they
             came
             to
             Plunder
             ,
             not
             to
             fight
             .
          
           
             O
             Israel
             ,
             in
             despight
             of
             these
             alarms
             ,
          
           
             In
             spite
             of
             all
             their
             Plots
             and
             Arms
             :
          
           
             Thou
             with
             thy
             Conq'ring
             Sword
             didst
             make
             thy
             way
             ,
          
           
             From
             
             Iordan's
             Flood
             to
             the
             great
             Western
             Sea.
             
          
        
         
           
             Thus
             for
             the
             Tribes
             th'
             Almighty
             did
             appear
             ,
          
           
             Once
             to
             their
             God
             his
             People
             were
             so
             dear
             .
          
           
             But
             now
             he
             threatens
             to
             employ
          
           
             Assyrian
             Arms
             his
             People
             to
             destroy
             .
          
           
             For
             this
             my
             Blood
             hangs
             curdled
             in
             my
             Veins
             ,
          
           
             And
             strong
             Convulsions
             rend
             my
             tortur'd
             Reins
          
           
           
             My
             Bones
             all
             rattle
             in
             their
             rocking
             Frame
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             my
             Heart
             Fear
             damps
             the
             Vital
             Flame
             .
          
           
             Horror
             my
             Spirits
             does
             possess
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             can
             my
             quiv'ring
             Lips
             one
             perfect
             word
             express
             .
          
           
             I
             Tremble
             now
             ,
             and
             Weep
             and
             Mourn
             ,
          
           
             That
             when
             the
             sad
             amazing
             Turn
          
           
             Shall
             happen
             ,
             and
             the
             gloomy
             Day
          
           
             Of
             Vengeance
             all
             its
             Terrors
             shall
             display
             ;
          
           
             Safe
             from
             the
             Tempest
             I
             may
             find
             ,
          
           
             Peace
             in
             my
             House
             ,
             and
             Comfort
             in
             my
             Mind
             .
          
           
             I
             'll
             to
             th'
             Almighty's
             Mercy
             fly
          
           
             And
             on
             his
             faithful
             Providence
             rely
             ,
          
           
             When
             
             Babylon's
             insulting
             King
          
           
             Shall
             all
             his
             fierce
             and
             numerous
             Armys
             bring
             ,
          
           
             Armys
             to
             Blood
             and
             Rapine
             bred
             ,
          
           
             To
             pull
             down
             
             Isr'el's
             lofty
             Head
             ,
          
           
             And
             dreadful
             Desolation
             o'er
             our
             Citys
             spread
          
        
         
           
             And
             then
             tho'
             Famine
             should
             invade
             ,
          
           
             Tho'
             Plants
             and
             Flow'rs
             and
             Fruits
             should
             fade
             ;
          
           
             Tho'
             on
             the
             Vine
             no
             Clusters
             should
             appear
             ,
          
           
             And
             tho'
             the
             Fig-tree
             should
             no
             Blossoms
             bear
             ;
          
           
             Tho'
             th'
             Olive
             yields
             not
             to
             the
             Dresser
             Oyl
             ,
          
           
             And
             barren
             Fields
             defeat
             the
             Farmer
             's
             toyl
             ;
          
           
             Tho'
             the
             high
             Folds
             no
             bleating
             Flocks
             surround
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             the
             Stalls
             no
             lowing
             Heards
             are
             found
             ;
          
           
             Yet
             I
             'll
             rejoyce
             in
             God
             my
             sure
             defence
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             his
             Strength
             repose
             my
             Confidence
             .
          
           
           
             Still
             will
             I
             trust
             him
             still
             I
             will
             believe
             ,
          
           
             That
             he
             will
             
             Isr'el's
             Captive
             State
             retrieve
             :
          
           
             That
             to
             our
             Country
             he
             'll
             our
             Sons
             restore
             ,
          
           
             And
             rescue
             them
             from
             Babylonish
             Pow'r
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A27998-e180
           
             Parrhasia●●
             .
          
           
             Ubi
             supra
             .