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 john 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 Universal Depravation of our Manners, and horrible Contempt of Sacred and Divine Things, have with good reason alarmed 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 Profaneness should without control spread their Infection much farther, the Consequences would be fatal; and that notwithstanding we have by His Majesty's unrivalled 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 saved us from our Enemies, to deliver us from our Selves, (his last and hardest Task) has been pleased to recommend from the Throne the Suppressing of Vice and Irreligion; and our Honourable Representatives, in nothing more honourable than in this, have expressed 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 Undertakers. 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 confessed, but not to the Honour of a Christian Nation, that Poetry was never in the worst of Times, or among the worst of Men, employed to more detestable purposes than it has been by the Writers of this Age. This Weapon which might have been managed with great advantage against Vice and Profaneness, they have made an Instrument of Destruction, and plunged 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 lose Reigns introduced and established that pernicious way of Writing, which corrupted the Stage, and depraved our Manners, had this effect in view, and really designed the fatal Consequences that attended their performances. 'Tis hard to imagine that any Men should be so intellectually Wicked, as to promote Immorality and Irreligion, merely for the sake of doing so; but this has been, and is still my complaint, that it is eventually true, that the Lose and Profane Writings of our Poets, whatever they designed, have greatly contributed to that decay of Virtue, 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 'tis 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 Panegyrics, I think myself very safe. I have no Personal Quarrel with any of the Writers I have censured; and if they think fit to expose my Name for asserting the Cause of Virtue 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 Virtue, I mean as far as Poetry ●s concerned in them, were not given up without Opposition, or any Protestations entered against it.  
One of the most Famous Poets of the Stage has at last expressly owned, 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 acquired more true Honour than by all the Volumes he has published. The two Lines are these: 
What I have loosely, or profanely 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 'tis allowed 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 composed, who shall call that an agreeable Diversion, where Profaneness and Immorality are kindly treated and encouraged, and Virtue 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 entertainments of the Amphitheatre, where the Gladi●to●s mangled and killed one another for the Sport and Pastime of the cruel Spectators? But 'tis infinitely more pardonable to be thus diverted, than to make Sport with the Tragical Performances of the English Theatre. 'Tis sad indeed that Humane Nature should at any time be so ●ar divested of all tender Passions, as that it should be delighted with the Torments and dying Agonies tho' of condemned Criminals; but for any People to make it a Diversion to see their Religion insulted, hurt, and wounded, to see Virtue itself 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 language by the Writers for the Stage, I believe ●is in part true; though it must be owned 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 Style seems to have nothing of the Air of the Theatre in it. But suppose it were indeed true, that we own 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 Virtue, but so far as 'tis impaired by them, and we'll be contented to take our old Language in the Condition they found it.  
There is a degree of Virtue 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 Virtue 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 increase to that degree, that there should not be Men of Virtue 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 Virtue, 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 Virtue, 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 Controversy with the Stage. If a Foreign Enemy should invade the Nation, every Englishman should take the alarm, although he has received from them no personal Provocation. The same Reason will justify the Opposition I have made to those Poets I have at any time condemned, and will plainly show that I did not do it unprovok'd. Whoever undermines the Government, provokes every Man that loves It, to resist him.  
'Tis a great damage also to the Nation, that so much of its finest Spirit is thus wasted, or employed to very bad Ends. 'Tis 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 mere Poets, as only to be capable of being Turner's of Verses. If therefore our Youth who are Poetically inclined, 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 convinced, that tho' Poetry is indeed an Ornament to those that have more noble and more useful Qualities, yet when it becomes a Profession, 'tis one of the meanest and lowest sort: 'Tis like Dancing and Music 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 'tis 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 intent as my last Attempt in Poetry.  
It has been observed by great Judges, 
Parrhasia●●.  and I find Mr. Le Clerk of the same Opinion, that the Moderns have wholly formed 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. 'Tis therefore to be wished that some good Genius, qualified 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 writ, I think 'tis 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 believed in those Deities, 'tis the most ridiculous and senseless thing in the World for a Christian Poet to bring in upon all Occasions the Rabble and riffraff 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 jest, 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 intolerable Absurdity. I know 'tis said, as I have elsewhere observed, that the Christian Scheme of Religion is not so well accommodated to Poetical Writings, and therefore our Poets are obliged to embellish 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, surprising 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 depressed by the Paraphrase, a sublime Style, 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 allowed 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, 'tis 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 'tis a Controversy 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 feigned Stories. Most of the Commentators and Critics 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 Machine's, the Incidents, and the Episodes, which make up a great part of the Poem, were formed in the Poet's Imagination, and that therefore this Poem is of the Epic 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 urged on either side; and therefore I shall not undertake to decide the Controversy, but content myself in giving the Reasons that I have read or heard offered to support each Assertion.  
Those of the last Opinion in the defence of it allege, that the Frame of the whole Book shows 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: 'Tis not credible that the Messengers that brought an account to Job of so many Sufferings that befell him, did really come upon the heels of one another so fast, and in such a manner as is there related. They think 'tis improbable that Job should sit so long upon a Dunghill, 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 patiented Sufferer. They say, 'tis 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 surprising 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 patiented 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 expressly affirm; and they suppose some great Poet, under the Guidance and Assistance of Divine Inspiration, did for the Instruction of Mankind choose this Subject, and contrive the Poem upon it of which we are now discoursing. They affirm that this Poem of Job is of the Epic kind, here being found all the essential parts required in the Constitution of such a Poem. They add farther as a confirmation of their Opinion, that though Machine's, that is, the introducing of Invisible Superior Being's, and the interesting of them in the Business of the Poem, are not necessary to an Epic Poem; yet as it does greatly heighten and embellish 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 Epic 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 strained 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 allege that there is nothing related in this Book, but what may well be supposed 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 versed in History will meet with many wonderful and improbable Occurrences, which notwithstanding upon sufficient Evidence they are forced to believe; and they say that for that reason, because the Facts were so extraordinary and surprising, 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 allow 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 used in the History of Ahab, where 'tis said a Spirit appeared before the Throne of God, and offered to be a lying Spirit in the Mouths of Ahab's Prophets to persuade 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 Virtues more conspicuous and exemplary, that he should leave him for a time under this sharp and severe Trial, and at last deliver the patiented 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, 'tis 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 Epic, 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 person's. For the Critics forming their Model of an Heroic Poem entirely upon the Example of these two famous Writers, make great and illustrious Actions necessary to the Hero of the Poem, which conforming myself 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 Epic 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 Epic poem, 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 Odysseys? 'Tis true, the Iliad is all active, and a very fight Poem; but if the Odysseys be considered, 'tis of another nature, there is more a great deal of the Heroes Sufferings not evaded by Arms, but by little Tricks and Subtleties, than there is of Action; and yet Mr. Rapine accounts this the more perfect Poem. In short, 'tis 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 produced; let it be shown that the Sufferings of a great Man managed with equal Skill, will not equally serve the Ends of Epic Poetry. As for what the Critics say on this Point, 'tis plain that Homer has been the great Lawgiver to those Men; they have done little but turned 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 Epic Poem, an Illustrious Person fit to support the Dignity of that Character: He is by the Instigation of Satan brought into miserable straits and unparalleled Sufferings, to try his Constancy and Integrity. He appears brave in Distress, and valiant in Affliction, maintains his Virtue, 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 inferior to that of the active Hero. When the various Efforts to break this mighty Man's Invincible Constancy proved 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 steadfast in their Religion and Integrity, upon a sure Belief that Virtue will not always be neglected, but will at last receive a suitable Reward.  
Whatever others assert, in my Judgement the Hero of the Poem ought not to be drawn without some defects; for as the representing of a perfect Idea of Virtue, which is never to be found in any mere Man, offends against the Established Rule in Epic Writings, which excludes all things improbable, so instead of promoting, it rather obstructs the End of that Poetry: For a perfect Idea of Virtue and Excellency may amaze and dazzle us; but when propounded for our Imitation, it will rather discourage, than excite us: But when the Examples of Virtue that are set before us, are discerned to have a mixture of Imperfection, we are provoked and emboldened to form ourselves 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 admired in Poetical Writings. What noble strains of Eloquence occur 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 majestic in the other Parts? What Variety is there of elegant Expression, beautiful Similitudes, bold and surprising 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 Epic 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 Virtue 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, introduced with all the Follies and Vices too of corrupt Mankind appear to the World as now instructed and enlightened 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 Machine's 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 interspersed 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, 
Ubi supra.  and that all the Materials and Contrivance were accommodated to that End. 'Tis true, Critics in after-Ages, a sort of Men who are very apt to discover in Writings many notable things that never entered into the Author's Thoughts, have found out wise and instructive Morals in the Poems beforementioned; yet this seems an Invention of their own. For as the Learned Man beforementioned observes, 'tis scarce possible to relate any wonderful Action of a Great Person, or any considerable Occurrence, but 'twill be very easy 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 mentioned, and has offered 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, 'tis more apparently true of the greatest part of the Moderns, especially the Dramatic 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 usefulness in their excellent Instructions infinitely excel them, 'tis a Matter of Admiration that the Christian Poets should be so far enamoured 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 inspired 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 published 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 'tis indeed wonderful that to give a new Sense to an Expression in an ancient Poet, to slop a Period more exactly, to rectify a Word, to give a truer Spelling to a Man's Name, or to restore a corrupt Sentence, should be looked 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 dignify the Owners of it with the honourable Titles of great Critics, and Masters of polite Learning.  
I would not derogate from the true value of Classical Knowledge. The Greek and Latin Poets should be studied, that we may understand those Languages of which there is such a manifest Necessity: But 'tis 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 Virtue 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, 'tis very strange that a literal Translation of this Book as 'tis 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 supposed 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 lived, it is highly probable that he was Moses' Predecessor, or at least his Contemporary; and that for these Reasons. This righteous and devout Man was allowed 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 entirely ignorant of the Modes of the Jewish Religion, and of their manner of ask Counsel of God either by Urim and Thummim, or by the Prophets; and therefore 'tis 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 suitable to the Design of the Author of this Book, had Job lived after that wonderful Deliverance; and there is scarce any Writer that followed that Time, that does not mention or allude to that famous History. And this is yet farther confirmed by the long Life of Job, which was protracted to two hundred Years, which agrees to the Times of the Old Patriarches.  
As to the Land of Utz, the Country in which this great Man lived, there are different Opinions, occasioned chief by the uncertainty which Utz it was (for three are mentioned) from whom it received its Name. The first Utz the Son of Aram is mentioned, 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 mentioned, Gen. 22. 21. from him the Country where he lived is called Usitis or Ausitis, which by Ptolemy is placed 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 mentioned, Gen. 36. 28. the Horites being driven out by the Edomites, their Country was after that called 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 easy matter to settle this controverted Point. 'tis allowed by all, that Utz the Country of Job was exposed to the Incursions and Depredations of the Chaldeans; and 'tis allowed likewise that Chaldea was Eastward of Arabia. Now suppose that in our English History there had been mentioned a great Man, that had in ancient Times been plundered by a Band of Scotchmen; and the Habitation or Country of this unfortunate Man being mentioned by an obscure or obsolete Word, a Controversy 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 Critic 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 beforenamed are from Scotland. 'Tis not therefore to be doubted but that the Country of Job was in the Eastern part of Arabia, and 'tis probable 'twas 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 show 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, 'tis 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 lived▪ there are many different Opinions. Some believe 〈◊〉 this Book was wrote in the Time when the Israelites were under the Egyptian Bondage, and that it was composed to encourage them to a patiented suffering of their Afflictions, and to confirm them in their dependence 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 testify. Others are of Opinion, that the Writing was of much later date, and give these Reasons for it. They allege that there are many Syriack and Arabic Words, and Forms of Expression that were not in use among the ancient Hebrew Writers, the Interpretation of which must be fetched from the Rabbins; that there are many Elegancies relating to the Constellations, and several Fish and Birds which show 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 introduced into the Hebrew Language. They believe therefore that the Author lived after David and Solomon, and before Ezekiel, because he is mentioned by that Prophet.  
Some believe that Isaiah himself was the Author, the time when he lived being very suitable to this Conjecture, besides the Majesty and Sublimity of his Style, 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 Arabic Words: Whether he was the one or the other, 'tis plain the Author was well versed 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 Reflection 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 Egyptian Bondage, and after the Institution of the Mosaical Scheme of Religion, he could have been so perfectly silent as to both. 'Tis hardly to be imagined that if he had lived after Moses he should ever have designed 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 supposed to have been said by one who lived before Moses. This exact Care seems not agreeable to the Writers of that Age. And if it should be supposed, 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 lived; yet 'tis 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 happened after; especially such famous ones, as the Miracles wrought when the Israelites were brought out of Egypt, their Settlement in the Land of Canaan, and the Rites of the Mosaical Religion. The same Reasons therefore that convince me that Job himself lived before, or in the Time of Moses, persuade me to think the Author of this Poem, whoever he was, did so too; and therefore 'tis 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 distinguished 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, deprived of his Estate, his Children, his Friends and Health, and reduced to a Condition as perfectly miserable, as his former had been happy. After this surprising 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 Egyptians and old Grecians, as well as other Idolatrous Countries, who used under any great Calamities to rail bitterly at their Gods, to pull down their Images, and drag them about the Streets, to be revenged on them for not preventing their misfortunes. After this three Persons, eminent for their Birth, Virtue and Wisdom, Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar (perhaps Elihu was with Job before) went to comfort their distressed Friend. Their Design was good, and they considering that Wickedness was the meritorious Cause of Suffering, and that Divine Justice was not to be cleared, if proffligate and impious Men should go unpunished; and having themselves often seen as well as heard by Tradition from their Forefathers, that wicked Nations and Families had frequently, by the just Judgement of God, been utterly destroyed, 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 supposed to be, could never be so far forsaken of God, and abandoned 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 suitable Repentance, upon which they believed, as they often assured 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 concealed and secret Gild, as his Friends reproached 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 assured that God did often afflict even with the greatest Severity many just and upright Men, and suffered 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 〈◊〉 Man's 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 punished with so severe a hand, whilst he favoured the Wicked, and prospered their Undertake; or at least that he made not that distinction between them that the justice of Righteous Government requires. But as to himself his Anguish and Impatience risen to such a degree, as vented themselves in many Expressions relating to God's Severity to him, unbecoming an humble and patiented Sufferer, which made a learned Critic say, that Job who had a good Cause, discomposed by his Impatience managed it ill, as his Friends had a bad one, but managed 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 Controversy, 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 condemned 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 Hypocrisy, or any concealed or secret Gild, yet he condemns him for the Impatience he expressed in his Sufferings, and for his bold and rash Expressions that seemed 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.  
'Tis evident that the Design of the Book is to show that the Providence of God does not only guide and overrule the highest and most important Affairs, The Erterprises of aspiring Princes, and the Rise and Fall of States and Empires, but that it interests and mingles itself 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 disposed 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 justify 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 exposed to the scorn and outrage of their insulting Enemies. The solving of this difficulty, which has so often puzzled the Understanding, and discomposed the Temper of the Wisest and Best of Men, seems to be chief aimed at in this Writing. And 'tis observable that in the Debates between Job and his Friends, when they are pressed with any difficulty concerning the Divine Administration of Affairs, and are at a loss how to reconcile Occurrences with their own Notions of justice and Goodness, they fly to God's Infinite Greatness, and seem to resolve the Controversy into his absolute Sovereignty, and uncontrollable Power, which occasions many wonderful Descriptions of God's Majesty and Omnipotence. They seem to think that when we are puzzled and confounded, and after all our Attempts can by no means account for the Proceed 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 Just, and Wise, even when in his Administration he seems to be most the contrary. And 'tis very plain that when God bespeaks them in the latter end of the Book, he insists on no other Justification of his Proceed 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.  
'Tis probable that one Reason why we are apt to censure God's Proceed is, that we take his Idea too nicely from ourselves. For tho' we must form our Idea of him from the Contemplation of ourselves, yet this must not be too strict, nor extended too far. For 'tis 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 inferior kind of Knowledge is by no means a measure of that most perfect kind in the Divine Understanding, so the justice, 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. 'Tis 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 lived 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 'tis improbable this Ball of Earth, the Dregs and Sediment of the World should be so full of Reasonable Being's, and the nobler Parts of the Creation should not be peopled with suitable 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 justice.. 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 dependence 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, 'tis 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 ourselves are so small a Part.  
Besides this Principal and most Conspicuous Design, other Useful and Excellent Ends are pursued 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 suitable 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 Virtue, 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 possessed a greater Substance than any Man in the Country where he lived, and was blest with a complete Collection of all those Enjoyments, that are supposed to make a Man happy in this World, he maintained his Religion and Integrity inviolable, he was no less eminent for his Piety, than for his Power and Abundance. He strictly preserved 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 surprising Revolution the Scene was changed, and this Righteous Person being deprived of his Children and Possessions, and afflicted with grievous Pain and Sickness, became the most wretched and unhappy Man that can be imagined, he then by the Exercise of other rare Virtues, 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 softened by the greatest Prosperity, nor soured or broken by the greatest Adversity. 'Tis 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 robbed 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 honoured with the Character of the meekest Man on Earth, did on some provoking Occasions lose his Temper; and Job may be allowed to be the most patiented Person in the World, tho' in such straits and Distress, and urged 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 Virtues, 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 pleased 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 Virtue 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 Mosaic, or of the Christian Institution.  
Another ●nd, and a very useful one too, is by the Example of Job to convince the Reader of the Instability of a prosperous Condition, and the great Vicissitude of Humane Affairs, whereby his Mind may be disposed 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 beforementioned, so very different from ours, that I thought a Paraphrase more proper and advantageous for a Modern European Language. But as I judged it would not bear a strict Translation, so on the other hand I have endeavoured, that the Paraphrase should not be too lose and wide, but that the Reader may all along carry with him the Sense of the Original. I have often diffused the Sense in other Expression. I have amplified the Text in many Places that appeared more Poetical, and from General Heads I have descended sometimes to Particulars, the Enumeration of which, I believed, 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 entered 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 determined by any fixed and unalterable Rule. Truth and good Sense are settled 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. 'Tis 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 Tastes 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 bigoted 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 Judgement of other Nations; and not with the haughty Air of a Supercilious Critic, 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 altered the Method and Order of the Narration, or any way changed the Model. And 'twill 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 looked 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 studied and taught it universally in the Schools, I say had this been, the Grammarians and Critics 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 'tis 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 obliged to profess and teach.  
I have indeed supplied in some Places the Transitions and other Connexion's, 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 embarrassed 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 looked on as most natural, and supported by the best Reasons: And in this I have chief 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 Style, 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 'tis 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 surprised, when in the second Song of Moses he finds that great Prophet speaking of what befell the Children of Israel in Canaan, as things passed in his own Time, which did not happen till long after his Death. I am of Mr. Cowley's Judgement, 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. 'Tis 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 perused 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, mentioned 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 suitable to the Elephant. The Reasons alleged 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. Persuaded 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 job, dwelled in Arabia's Land.  
He in the Heavenly Paths of Virtue trod,  
And feared to Sin, because he feared his God.  
seven goodly Sons that Admiration bred,  
And Three Fair Daughters crowned his Nuptial Bed  
With gracious heavens peculiar Favour blest,  
The prosperous Man unmeasured Wealth possessed.  
His Fleecy Flocks o'er all the Hills were spread,  
And in his Stalls a Thousand Oxen fed.  
When he decamped to find a new Abode,  
Three Thousand Camels bore along the Road  
His precious Goods, and groaned beneath the Load.  
No Lord was found through all the Spicy East,  
Whose Herds and Stores so vastly were increased.   

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,  
Beguiled the Night, and hurried on the Day.  
Conscious that Sin does oft such Mirth attend,  
The Father feared his Sons might Heaven offend.  
For he with mournful Eyes had often spied,  
Scattered on Pleasure's smooth, but treacherous Tide.  
The Spoils of Virtue overpowered by Sense,  
And floating Wrecks of ruin'd Innocence.  
He therefore for his So●s to Heaven conveyed  
His Supplications, and Atonement made;  
And while they Feasted, he devoutly prayed.   

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

Th' Apostate said. I Lands and Seas have crossed,  
And past from Clime to Clime, from Coast to Coast,  
Till I the Tour of yond low World had made,  
And all its Empires and its States surveyed.  
My Course completed to these Seats of Light,  
Mounting th' Aerial Void I winged my Flight.   

Th' Almighty then demanded. In thy Way  
And toilsome Course, Ambitious Spirit, say,  
Hast thou observed good job, my Servant, one  
In Righteousness and Piety, by none  
Through all the wide Terrestrial World outdone?  
Whose perfect Virtue Admiration draws  
From Men on Earth, and finds in Heaven Applause.   

I've long observed, replied false Lucifer,  
Thy Favourite, and watched 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 its 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 crowned the Labour of his Hand,  
Increased his Stores, extended his Command?  
He can't complain unless with Wealth oppressed,  
With Favours over-laden, over-blest.  
Entrenched 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 Crowned,  
The Weakest Virtue may maintain its ground.  
But let this Prosperous, Wealthy Saint be tried;  
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:  
Despoiled of these, he'll Curse thee to thy Face,  
And naked Virtue will no more embrace.   

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

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

Mean time it happened at a splendid Feast,  
Iob's Eldest Son in turn received 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,  
Sweeting 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, warmed  
With hopes of Booty, and with Lances armed,  
An Inroad made; and first the Men destroyed  
Who kept thy Herds, and then the Spoil enjoyed.  
I am alone by favourable Fate  
Escaped, th' unwelcome Tidings to relate.   

While he was speaking, with as swift a pace  
Another came, and with as sad a Face:  
And thus he said: O job, a sudden Storm,  
And lowering Clouds did all the Sky deform.  
The bellowing Engines did all Nature scare,  
Spouting their ruddy Vomit through the Air.  
Tempests of Fire, like that which burns in Hell,  
And blue Cascades of flaming Sulphur fell,  
Dreadful to Sight, and deadly to the Smell.  
The ravening Flames were on the Mountains poured,  
And all thy Shepherds, with their Flocks, devoured.  
I only am escaped, 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 surprise they've overcome;  
And with their Spoil they marched in Triumph home.   

Mean time another entered, who in Speed  
And Consternation, did the rest exceed.  
And thus he spoke. job, At a splendid Treat  
Thy Sons and Daughters were together met,  
Within their Eldest Brother's pleasant Seat:  
When rising from the Savage Wilderness,  
A howling, hollow Wind, with such a Stress  
Bore on the House, that the high Roof and Wall  
Disjointed cracked, and fell; and with the Fall  
Crushed, and interred at once th' assembled Youth.  
I only scaped to tell so sad a Truth.   

Then job his Garment rend, and shaved 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 given, and taken back again:  
Because he takes his Own, shall I complain?  
Tho' now he Frowns, I'll praise th' almighty'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  
Comest thou to these blessed Seats of Innocence?   

Th' Apostate said. I Lands and Seas have crossed,  
And past from Clime to Clime, from Coast to Coast,  
Till the Tour of yond low World had made,  
And all its Empires, and its States surveyed.  
And now am hither come. In all thy way,  
Th' Almighty said, Ambitious Spirit, say,  
Hast thou observed good job, my Servant, one  
In Righteousness and Piety, by none  
Through all the wide Terrestrial World outdone?  
How ' midst his Sufferings he asserts my Cause,  
Defends my Justice, and Obeys my Laws.  
He perseveres unchanged, and still holds fast  
Th' Integrity which he has long embraced.  
Thou movest me to afflict his Soul in vain,  
He still his generous Virtue does retain.  
shocked with this Storm, he still takes deeper root,  
Nor is he less adorned with Noble Fruit.  
The Constancy th' unshaken Man has showed,  
Does thy malicious Policy Elude.  
Still against Sin he makes a brave defence,  
Despoiled of all things, but his Innocence.   

Th' Apostate then replied. Mankind, 'tis known,  
Will give their children's Skins, to save their own.  
To save their Lives, their Treasures they produce;  
Rather than Death, a naked Being choose.  
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' Almighty, job is in thy power,  
Afflict his Flesh, but be his Life secure.   

In haste th' Apostate on this Errand went,  
Pleased with a Power to vex the Innocent.  
He soon collected through the Atmosphere,  
Crude Exhalations, and corrupted Air.  
He fetched raw Vapours, and unwholesome Damps  
From standing Lakes, low Caves, and marshy Swamps.  
Then finding job, he secretly conveyed  
Through all his winding Veins, th' infectious Seed.  
The poisoned Blood with Pestilential Boils,  
From Head to Foot the guiltless Man defiles.  
In Ashes humbly silent, down he sat;  
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 addressed.  
How much thy pious dullness I detest!  
Dost thou not see that thy Devotion's vain;  
What have thy Prayers procured but Woe and Pain?  
To suffering Virtue wilt thou still adhere,  
And hardened 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 Interest understood,  
Perversely Righteous, and absurdly Good?  
These painful Sores, and all thy Losses show,  
How Heaven 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' Almighty thus to be thy Friend,  
To take thy Life, and so thy Sufferings end.   

Then job replied. Thou speakest as the Weak,  
As the Profane, Flagitious Women speak.  
What! shall a Man, a Worm with God contend?  
Dispute his Will, his Rule of Justice mend?  
He once enriched, and made us to abound,  
Filled us with Goodness, and our Wishes crowned:  
Shall we receive his Blessings, but complain  
When his afflicting Hand Creates our Pain?  
We should our Patience in our Sufferings show;  
Blessings are not, but Sufferings are our Due.   

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

Then from afar they lifted up their Eyes,  
Directed by his Moans, and woeful Cries,  
And spied th' afflicted job upon the Sand,  
In Ashes laid, his Potsherd in his Hand.  
Consummate Sorrow in his Eyes appeared,  
And Tears and Dust his meager Cheeks besmeared.  
Deformed he lay, Disfigured, Covered over  
With running Boils, and undigested Gore.  
They sought him in himself, and scarce did know  
Their ancient Friend, disguised with so much Woe.  
At last convinced, they whispered, sure 'tis he;  
But, O, how changed 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 distressed,  
Awakened various Passions in their Breast:  
Grief, Pity, Wonder in their Bosoms penned;  
Pressed with like force, and strove at once for Vent.  
They tore their Vests, like Men in deep Despair,  
And scattered Clouds of Ashes through the Air;  
Which thence descending, on their Heads did rest,  
Their inward Grief and Trouble to attest.  
Not to molest a Sorrow so profound,  
seven Nights and Days they Silent sat around.  
So long a Time they held their Peace, to show  
A reverence due to such prodigious Woe.    

CHAP. III.  

And then afflicted job first Silence broke.  
His Friends attentive sat, while thus he spoke.  
Cursed be the fatal Day that cheered my Sight,  
With the first Beam of Inauspicious Light.  
Cursed be the luckless Night, be Cursed 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.  
Overcharged with Sorrow, let it move so slow,  
That all Times swift-winged Race may still outgo  
That lagging Day, still let it pant behind,  
And never more its Place and Order find.  
May it be banished 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, absorbed, and lost in Time's Abyss.   

As for the Night, let Darkness to be felt,  
Impenetrable Darkness, such as dwelled  
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 Yell of Despair▪  
The Mourners, all ye wretched Sons of Woe,  
Who on your Birthday dreadful Curses throw,  
Some Execrations on this Night bestow.  
Ye Stars withdraw your Light, let not a Ray  
Be suffered 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 shaped and fashioned as a Man?  
Why Life not stifled when it first began?  
O, that a quick Abortion had suppressed  
The vital Flame, when first it warmed 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 suffered me to lie  
Without their help, and kindly let me die;  
I than had early met as good a Fate,  
As Princes, Kings, and Councillors of State,  
Who lie in Stately Sepulchers Interred,  
Which by themselves at vast Expense were reered:  
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 undisturbed, laid in the quiet Tomb.  
The Wicked there no more the Just molest,  
And there the weary are dissolved in Rest.  
There near th' Oppressor lies th' Oppressed in Peace,  
And there the Prisoners Cries for ever cease.  
Levelled by Death the Conqueror and the Slave,  
The Wise and Foolish, Cowards and the Brave,  
Lie mixed, and undistinguished in the Grave.   

Why is that Peaceful Place, that soft repose  
Denied to vast unsufferable Woes?  
Why does the Man that drags in Sweat and Pain,  
His Chain of Life demand to die in vain?  
Why is he not allowed 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 pursued?  
Relentless Death! Inexorable Grave!  
Why will you not your wretched Vot'ries 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 blessed Ambrosial Bowl,  
To ease the bitter Anguish of his Soul?  
When a poor Wretch consumed with raving Grief,  
And sunk in deep Despair, to find relief  
Shall dig with eager Labour to explore  
Death's Leaden Vein, as if 'twas Silver Oar:  
Why does he not so cheap a Treasure find?  
By envious Life why is he countermined?  
Why must he live, who begs and prays to die,  
'Tis Cruelty this Refuge to deny  
To one who knows not whither else to fly?   

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

CHAP. IU.  

Then Eliphaz replied. To mourn thy Fate,  
And with soft Words thy Sorrow to abate  
We came, but such Impatience thou hast shown,  
And hast on Heaven such bold Reproaches thrown,  
That now instead of yielding kind Relief,  
My Language may exasperate thy Grief.  
Such is thy Wound, Balm will be used in vain;  
And if I Launce 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 given 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 Balsam, ease their Wound.  
The most perverse, inexorable Woe,  
And sullen Grief thy charming Voice did know.  
Drooping Despondency, and deep Despair  
Listened to Thee, and would thy Counsels hear.  
But since it is thy Turn to undergo  
The sufferers Part, ungoverned Passions show,  
How much a lighter Task it is to give  
Council and wise Advice, than to receive.  
How easy 'tis to praise, how hard to bear  
Th' afflicting Rod, thy wild Complaints declare.   

Impatience under Pain the Spring betrays  
Of thy Devotion and Religious Ways.  
Affliction has detected thee, and shown  
Thou didst not seek heavens Interest, 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 heavens Displeasure bear.  
Heaven will not let the Righteous sink so low,  
In such a vast profound Abyss of Woe.  
They are by adverse Providence annoyed,  
Kindly Corrected oft, but not destroyed.  
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 withering in Despair.  
So a fierce Lion long inur'd to Spoil,  
Shall roar entangled in the Hunter's Toil:  
Or else the Bloody Ravager o'erpowred  
When Old, by Famine's Teeth shall be devoured.  
His ravening 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 Heavenly Correspondence vaunt:  
Yet to convince thee of thy Error, hear  
The Language of a Heavenly Messenger.  
When Night in Sable Clouds had Nature dressed,  
And weary labourers sought refreshing Rest;  
I had a Vision, which a Sacred Dread  
And Reverential Horror in me bred.  
The awful Object clothed in glorious Air,  
Struck through my trembling Joints resistless Fear.  
A Heavenly Spirit passed before my Sight;  
My Hair with Terror stiffened, stood Upright.  
Approaching me, the bright Appearance stood,  
And I a plain Corporeal Glory viewed:  
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 outdo his Maker's Purity?  
Full Confidence even 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 Fabric scales.  
Each hour the sapped Foundation feels decay,  
And Life even 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 lived, they in their Folly die.  
Therefore, O job, thy rash Discourse correct,  
No more, poor Mortal, on thy God reflect.    

CHAP. V.  

Perhaps the Foolish may thy Conduct praise  
And against Heaven 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 Heaven arraign?  
Why dost thou, job, thy Discontent express  
That wicked Men do Power and Wealth possess?  
That Power and Wealth they will not long enjoy,  
For wrath Divine will the vile Race destroy.  
I have with wonder seen the Wicked shoot  
Deep in a fertile soil his thriving Root:  
But soon assaulted with a sudden storm,  
His ●hastly Ruin did the Ground deform.  
His ●imbs and Leaves and withered Fruit were spread  
Round his dismembered Trunk, and blasted head.  
His hated Sons impleaded by the Poor,  
Their Wealth by Rapine gotten did restore.  
Inextricable Troubles, vast Distress  
Did this accursed, despairing Race oppress.  
The Hungry did their thorny Fences leap,  
Enjoy their Labour, and their Harvest reap.  
Robbers did Inroads make in furious Bands,  
Their Houses risle, and lay waste their Lands.   

What means these Cries? why this Impatience shown?  
Is Trouble rare? are Woes uncommon grown?  
'Tis true, Affliction springs not from the Earth,  
Nor to the Ground owes a spontaneous Birth;  
Yet Men to Woe as to their Centre tend,  
As Streams to Seas, and Flames to Heaven ascend.  
This is the sad Inheritance conveyed  
From Man to Man since Adam disobeyed.  
This is the Lot which God does Man assign;  
Wherefore, O job, were thy Affliction mine,  
I would to heavens dread Majesty submit;  
All my own Ways Arraign, but his Acquit.  
I would his Justice and his Truth adore,  
Revere his Greatness, but myself abhor.  
By humble Resignation I would lie  
Beneath his Feet, and for his Mercy cry.   

His Deeds are great, unsearchable his Ways,  
Which in observing Minds Amazement raise.  
His Providence when lest 'tis understood,  
Is always Just, and Merciful and Good.  
The Wonders of this dark, unfathomed 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 Vallies 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 Councillor, 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.  
Involved in thickened Shades they lose their way,  
Believe 'tis Night, and seek at Noon the Day.  
He from th' Oppressor does Protect the Poor,  
And from his Mighty Foe the Weak secure:  
So to the Poor he gives reviving Hopes,  
And the black Mouth of proud Injustice stops.   

Thrice happy is the Man, who feels the smart  
Which kindly God's correcting Strokes impart.  
When chastened, think, thou art with Favours crowned;  
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 slandering 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 reconciled 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 savage Nature shall forget,  
And for a firm Alliance 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.  
Dragon's shall thee with friendly Hissing greet,  
And wanton Serpent's roll, and lick thy Feet.  
The fawning Lion shall thy Friendship Court,  
And gentle Tigers shall around thee sport.  
These awkard Sycophants shall thee address,  
And unaccustomed Flattery express.  
Thy Habitation shall be ever blest  
With undisturbed Tranquillity 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 ceased, and job in Pain and Anguish said,  
O, that my Grief was in a Balance laid,  
And all my Sufferings were against it weighed!  
Then let an equal Judge decide my Case,  
Whether my Grief my Sufferings does surpass.  
My massy Burden and my ponderous Woe,  
In weight the Sand around the Sea outdo.  
Unutterable Groans my Soul oppress,  
Nor have I words to show my deep Distress.  
Th' almighty's Arrows stick within my Heart,  
And every festering Wound gives deadly smart.  
Arrows whose heads, like pointed Lightning, shine,  
Steeped in the strongest Lees of Wrath Divine.  
Their raging Poison spreads without control,  
Drinks up my Life, and Eats my very Soul.  
Th' almighty'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 diseased?  
Or o'er his Fodder lows the Ox displeased.  
But did you my Affliction undergo,  
Your groans with mine would some proportion show,  
And to as high a Tide your swelling Sorrows grow.  
Who in unsavoury Meats can take delight?  
What Taste is in an Egg's insipid White?  
Then noxious Food, such as my Sorrows are,  
'Tis madness to commend, as wholesome Fare.  
I'm now compelled, my Poverty is such,  
To feed on Meats which I abhorred to touch.  
My Troubles rise to such amazing height,  
Such is my Grief's unsufferable Weight;  
My Soul to such extremity is driven,  
That I must still implore the God of Heaven  
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 lose 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,  
Hardened in Grief, and strengthened by my Woe.  
I hate to live, of Death I'm not afraid,  
Conscious that Heaven I strictly have obeyed.  
What is my Strength? how weak, and how absurd  
Is it to hope it ere shall be restored?  
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 hoped 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 assuage.   

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 Prayer,  
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 traveler wried  
Finds out the Brook, but sees the Channel dried,  
Where he expected cooling Streams should flow,  
Sin●● 'twas in Winter filled with Ice and Snow;  
But when the Waters felt a warmer heat,  
They risen in Vapours, and forsook their Seat:  
Won by the Summer's importuning Ray,  
Th' eloping Flood did from its Channel stray,  
And with enticing Sunbeams stole away:  
The traveler casting down a troubled look,  
Sighs and upbraids the false deceitful Brook.  
Fair Sheba's Convoys and the thirsty Troops  
Of Tema mourn their disappointed Hopes.  
Confounded they express their Grief and Shame,  
To find the Banks without th' expected Stream.  
No less am I amazed, 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 afraid.  
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 spread?  
D'ye fear your Friend now Poor, will craving grow,  
And beg Supplies of you to ease his Woe?  
Did I e'er importune my Friends to grant  
Part of their Substance to relieve my want?  
Did ever job at your Expense demand  
To be delivered from th' Oppressor's hand?  
If your Instructions can my Ways correct,  
Thankful I'll hold my Peace, and not reject  
The Heavenly 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 depressed,  
And in your subtle 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 Sufferings mourn.  
You will de●end my Righteousness, and all  
Your rash and unconsidered Words recall.  
I do not find my Reason so debased,  
Nor yet so undistinguishing my Taste,  
But I can see your words are misapplyed;  
They cannot Truth's Impartial Test abide.    

CHAP. VII.  

The Life of Man has a determined date  
Fixed 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 toilsome Life oppressed,  
Not be allowed to pray for Death and Rest?  
Th' uneasy Day in lingering Pain I spend,  
And think the tedious Night will never end.  
By Night when Men their anxious Thoughts disband,  
And gently stroked by Slumber's downy hand;  
Reluctant Cares at last from raging cease,  
And Sleep till Morn, to give the Wretched Peace.  
Even than my restless Thoughts to vex my Soul,  
In everlasting Agitations roll.  
My savage Grief let lose, like Beasts of Prey,  
By Night grows more outrageous, than by Day.  
My swelling Sorrows never will subside,  
But higher rise in their Nocturnal Tide.  
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 clothed 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-winged 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 displeased give me a frowning Look,  
I sink, I die, as if with lightning 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 Vigour 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 Die.  
I'll speak, for Grief is bold and eloquent,  
My Prayers and Cries shall give my Sorrow vent.  
Expostulations and Complaints shall ease  
My tortured Soul, and the sharp Pain appease.   

Am I a vast, a wild, Impetuous Deep,  
That thou art forced 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 lie upon my Bed,  
And on my Couch repose my restless Head:  
But then if Sleep around me nodding flies  
With flaggy Wings, and lights upon my Eyes;  
Visions and Dreams composed of frightful Air,  
The drowsy Stranger from my Eyelids scare.  
Therefore my Soul does quick deliverance ask  
From tedious Life's unsufferable Task:  
Life I abhor; let me alone to Die;  
Why should I still in lingering Torments lie?  
Why does Coy Death from my Embraces fly?  
Why should I Live? Was I from Pain released,  
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 Sufferer thy just Laws obey,  
And to reduce the wanderer 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 easy Minutes, some short respite give.  
I own my Gild, and my Offences blame,  
Deluged in Tears, and overwhelmed with Shame.  
What shall I do thy Favour to regain?  
Can I implore th' almighty's Aid in vain,  
Whose gracious Power does all Mankind sustain?  
In deeds of Kindness thou dost most rejoice,  
chastening is forced, 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 gall my festering Flesh, that I  
Would lay my Life, my Burden down, and die?  
Forgive of all my Gild 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 perversely speak?  
How long shall thy Reproaches Heaven Arraign?  
Does the least Spot Eternal Justice slain?  
Why does thy Passion's Tied its Bank overflow?  
Why dothy Words, like Winds, Tempestuous grow?  
Does God Deceit to Sacred Truth prefer?  
Rather than job, must God be thought to err?  
I● thy Rebellious Children did provoke  
Th' almighty's Wrath, and felt his Vengeful stroke,  
I● thou his Perfect Justice wouldst adore,  
I● thou his Mercy humbly wouldst implore;  
And to thy Prayer join Purity of Heart,  
For thy Support he would his Power exert.  
His Blessings yet would Crown thy righteous Ways,  
And thou in Peace mightst pass thy prosperous 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 over the Rolls of Time, and strict enquiry make.  
We are of no Experience, no regard  
When with our long-lived Ancestors compared:  
Those Venerable Heads will give thee Light  
In this Debate, and set thy Judgement right.  
They'll from repeated Observation show,  
That all the Maxims we advance, are true.   

Even 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 gazed,  
Stand at this unexpected Change amazed.  
So shall the Beauty of the Wicked fade,  
Who to endure has no Foundation laid.  
His swelling Hopes in their high Tide 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 Heaven 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;  
Can 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 sudden Extirpation Mourn,  
Felled by the Axe, or else by Thunder torn.  
Complete Destruction shall all marks efface,  
And all Remains, that might confess his place.  
The ground shall no discovering Footsteps show,  
Nor neighbouring Trees remember, where he grew.  
No other milder Fate or happier End,  
Shall all his Pomp and prosperous Pride attend.  
He shall be rooted up, and in his Ground  
No fruitful Plant shall be hereafter found,  
But neighbouring Trees shall thrive, that stand around.   

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

CHAP. IX.  

Then answered job. This Sacred Truth I own,  
That God has still unblemished 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▪  
Unfinished 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 over of Years to come.  
He sees each Chance, and every future Turn,  
And reads the Lives of Monarches yet unborn.  
He views Events that in their Causes lie,  
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 Valley spurns.  
He turns up Mountain's 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 wrenched aside appear,  
And diving Isles conceal themselves for fear.  
At his Command the rising Sun will stay,  
And from the World keep back the lingering Day.  
His marshaled Clouds to intercept the Light,  
Seal up the Stars the twinkling Eyes of Night.  
The spreading heavens he as a Curtain draws,  
Treads down aspiring Waves, and gives the Ocean Laws.  
With Orbs of Light he inlays all the Spheres,  
And studs the Sable Night with Silver Stars.  
He all the Constellations hangs on high,  
And bids the Planets wander through the Sky.  
Stormy Areturus round the Northern Pole  
By his direction does unwearyed roll.  
Orion and the Pleyades dispense,  
At his Command, their Rays and Influence.  
His skilful 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' Almighty walks unseen.  
He that to follow in his Steps essays,  
Through all his craggy, dark, perplexing Ways,  
Scared by the sacred Horrors of the Place,  
Will own, the Maze Divine he cannot trace,  
Nor the black Gulf, and trackless Mountains pass.  
He'll stand astonished, and bereft of Sense,  
Lost in the awful wild's of Providence.  
If he his settled Purpose has expressed,  
A Man of Wealth and Honour to divest,  
What hardy Mortal will his Power withstand,  
Or dares a reason why 'tis done, demand?  
Till God withdraws the heavy, galling Yoke,  
And reconciled, 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' Almighty in debate?  
Can I his Ear with chosen Language charm,  
And God of all his Arguments disarm?  
Tho' I believed 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 Distressed,  
That I th' amazing Truth should ne'er believe,  
But, as a gaudy Dream the joyful News receive.  
Both sharp and lasting Sufferings I have born,  
With Wrath Divine, as with a Tempest torn;  
He perseveres and multiplies his Strokes,  
Tho' no uncommon Gild his Wrath provokes.  
So fast his fierce, redoubled Blows descend,  
That I can scarce to all my Wounds attend.  
No breathing Time is given, no short Relief  
From exquisite and never-ceasing Grief.  
Should I his Throne with all my force Assail,  
Against Almighty Strength can I prevail?  
If I Appeal to Judges and to Laws,  
What higher Court can Sat 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 choose.   

To all things you advance, to represent  
God's Power and Justice fully, I assent.  
But than you err, when you assert that God  
Exempts the Righteous from his scourging Rod.  
No Favourite 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' almighty's Arrows fly,  
For he delights the Innocent to try.  
To show their Constant and their Godlike Mind,  
Not by Afflictions broken, but refined.  
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 Undertake with Success.  
While Men for Empire fit, and Public Trust,  
Quick in discerning, in deciding Just,  
Worthy of Thrones, Men of unblemished Fame,  
Are oft exposed to Misery and Shame.  
This is th' almighty's Deed, if not, declare  
Its genuine Authors, who, and where they are.   

My Life consumes in never-ceasing Woe,  
My rolling Days uninterrupted flow,  
To disembogue their Flood within the Deep,  
Where all the Streams of Time collected Sleep.  
No eager Couriers in their greatest haste,  
Nor Ship before the Wind advance so fast.  
The Eagle from the Mountains Airy top,  
To strike his Prey, does ne'er so swiftly stoop.  
If I resolve my Sorrow to forget,  
That I'll no more my rash Complaints repeat,  
That my unbridled Passion I'll restrain;  
This humble Resignation is in vain.  
For God will never my Distress relieve,  
He'll punish on, and tempt Men to believe.  
That job by some unusual, black Offence,  
Has Heaven provoked such Judgements to dispense.  
In vain I strive my Innocence to clear,  
Since I must still these grievous Sufferings bear,  
Still the sad marks of heavens displeasure wear.  
If by my Vindication I should grow  
As clean and spotless, as the Fleecy Snow,  
When God replies, my Stains before concealed  
To my Confusion would be all revealed.  
My Foulness he'll detect, that I no more  
Should boast my Cleanness, but myself abhor.   

He's not a Man, my equal in dispute,  
That I should hope his Reasons to refute.  
Can I in Courts of Judgement take my place,  
And plead against th' Almighty 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 Trial take.  
I then will boldly speak, and free from fear  
I'll quickly make my Innocence appear.  
But this request th' Almighty 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 soothe my Pain.    

CHAP. X.  

My constant Woes, such constant Groans create,  
That Life's a black, uncomfortable State.  
My Soul abhors this loathsome Lump of Clay,  
Longs to be free, to wing to Heaven its way.  
I'll make my moan to give its Sorrow vent,  
Else will my Breast be with its Tempest rend.  
I cannot smother such Gigantic 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 lie,  
And thus in vain for heavens Compassion Cry?  
Do not thy Servant by uncommon Woes,  
To Public 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,  
Pleased 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' almighty'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 distinguished, though I am by Woe.  
Thou knowst that none thy Vengeance can withstand,  
Or rescue me from thy Afflicting Hand.  
Shouldst thou deny me Aid, I am bereft  
Of all Assistance, and am hopeless left.   

Thy hands have wrought and fashioned every Part  
Of thi● weak Fabric 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 formed my Limbs, and raised me out of Dust.  
How with stupendous Skill he did convey  
My Flame of Life through crooked Tubes of Clay.  
What need he crush me then with mighty Pain,  
When of myself I turn to Dust again?  
To him my Parent, I my Being own,  
The Fountain whence precarious Being's flow.  
He the prolific Principles infused,  
From whence the crude Conception was produced.  
He formed me when an Embryo in the Womb,  
And made my Limbs their proper Shape assume.  
He warmed the heaving Mass with Vital Heat,  
Hung in the Breast my Heart, and bid it beat.  
He of connected Bones a Bulwark made,  
Against the Ills which every way invade.  
About the Bones he the strong Sinews wound,  
And fenced 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 woven 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 cloyed,  
And long a true Terrestrial Heaven enjoyed.  
At first he kindled, and he still maintains  
The Flame of Life which wanders through 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 Sufferings grow,  
And every Moment propagates my Woe.  
As a fierce Lion o'er the grassy Lawn,  
With Hunger urged, 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 Judgements and thy Strokes renew,  
And my vexed Soul with hotter Wrath pursue.  
Thou still revivest 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 expired, when first I saw the Day!  
For than had I been carried from the Womb,  
And laid to Sleep within the silent Tomb.  
My Minute's fly, my Days roll on apace,  
And hasty Life will soon complete 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 undiscovered to the Light,  
Th' Imperial Seat of unmolested Night:  
A Place secured with such a gloomy Mound,  
So fenced with Walls of solid Darkness round,  
That not a streak of Light, no wandering Ray  
E'er came to view it, or explored the Way  
To introduce the Foreign Power of Day.   

Then Zophar did his Speech to job direct:  
Thou dost Prolix Discourses much affect.  
Thy Words abound, and roll in Floods along  
With mighty noise, but are they therefore Strong?  
Shall thy loud Deluge sober Reason drown,  
And bear thy Friends, thy kind Instructers down?  
Shall thy Devices make us hold our Peace?  
Must we not answer, lest we should displease?  
Shalt thou with such unsufferable Pride,  
Despise thy Brethren, and thy God deride,  
And yet, must no Man undertake to blame  
Thy faulty Conduct, and expose thy Shame?  
For thou hast said, that in th' almighty'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 concealed,  
Surpassing all which he has e'er revealed.  
Thou wouldst adore his methods, and declare  
How much above thy reach his Counsels are.  
Thou wouldst not more thy rash expressions use,  
No more th' almighty'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' almighty'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 Council of his Mind?  
It is as Heaven 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 squalid Slave release,  
Who can against him such Objections raise,  
As shall detect Injustice in his Ways?  
Tho' Man so little knows, is so unfit  
In Judgement 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 hid them, will reveal our Faults.  
Tho' thou dost vaunt that thou art free from Sin,  
He may discern Hypocrisy within.  
Nor stands he unconcerned, but will chastise  
The Wickedness, which he in Man descries.  
And yet this vain, this despicable Wight,  
This foolish Creature Man, takes great delight  
In being thought divinely Wise, and fit  
Th' almighty'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' Almighty prey;  
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 Heaven thy cheerful Face erect,  
To Heaven that does the Innocent Protect.  
On strong Foundations steadfast 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 Noonday, 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 sudden Dangers shall thy Sleep molest.  
To thee thy Neighbours shall in Throngs resort  
To see thy Splendour, and thy Friendship Court,  
And from thy Power shall humbly ask Support.  
But mighty Woes the Wicked shall Assail,  
In looking after Help their Eyes shall fail:  
Their Hope shall vanish as a blast of Air;  
How shall they scape, 'tis God denounces War?    

CHAP. XII.  

Then job replied. No doubt but you are Wise,  
And may the barbarous, senseless World despise.  
You've all the Wisdom of Mankind engrossed,  
Can more than Humane Understanding boast.  
If you should die, 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 perversely 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' Almighty my Complaint reject.  
Instead of this you with unnatural Pride  
Your suffering Friend insultingly deride.  
Because th' Almighty does his Ear incline  
To hear your Prayer, while he is deaf to mine;  
Because your Days are prosperous, 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 reduced to Misery and Want,  
Who once could Honour and Abundance vaunt,  
In his successful, thriving Neighbour's Sight,  
Tho' like a Lamp esteemed when fresh and bright,  
Is scorned, when glimmering with expiring Light.  
Yet of the Just this is the Common Fate,  
While Wicked Men enjoy a prosperous 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 undeserved Rewards on these bestow.   

Ask of the Beasts, the Beasts will straight return,  
That they the same sad Circumstances mourn.  
They'll cry, the tawny Tyrants that possess  
The lawless Empire of the Wilderness,  
The stripped 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 spared.  
They fall, unhappy Creatures! either way,  
To Men their Friends, or Beasts their Foes a Prey.  
Ask all the Feathered Nations of the Air,  
They'll all with one confederate Voice declare,  
That the voracious Vulture and the Kite,  
The Hawk and Eagle that in Blood delight,  
With all the long-winged Rovers of the Skies,  
Which Cruize among the Clouds to ken a Prize,  
They'll say this ravening 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 sinned Inhabitants demand  
How 'tis with them; they'll all, as one, complain  
The same unequal Fate attends the Main.  
They'll cry the vast Leviathan that moves  
The Deep around, and Seas before him Shoves,  
With all the Spoilers, and the murdering Race  
Of scaly Ravagers that vex the Place;  
In Peace possess the Empire of the Flood,  
And undisturbed, regale themselves with Blood.  
Unwieldy with their Fat, without control,  
The lazy Tyrants on the Billows roll:  
Pampered with Spoil, the wanton Monsters Sleep  
Along the Shore, or Sport within the Deep.  
While their Luxurious Bellies to supply  
Whole Shoals of inoffensive Fish's Dy.  
But whoever entertained a doubtful Thought  
If God this State of Things ordained, or not?  
Who by his Power all Being's did produce,  
And by his Wisdom fixed their end and use:  
He may, his Creatures lives at Pleasure take,  
They are his own, who can Objections make?  
God's Sovereign Right of Empire I respect,  
But this Concession can't my Cause affect.  
Can you some monstrous Gild 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 not 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 ancient Fathers, as less apt to err.  
Wisdom I grant in Hoary Heads appears,  
And Understanding is matured by Years;  
Rarely a Beardless Oracle we know,  
Judgement 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,  
Council 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, reasoning 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,  
Overthrow her Forts, and breaks her Bulwarks 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 ponderous Chains?  
He ties the Clouds the Bottles of the Skies,  
And to the Earth his Heavenly Dew denies.  
Then cleaving Drought the Sunburnt Mountains chap,  
And for the Rain the thirsty Meadows gape.  
Anon the Rivers swell at his Command,  
O'erflow their Banks, and kindly drown the Land.  
Wisdom and Strength are his, 'tis he imparts  
To all the Crafty their successful Arts.  
He shows them how to lay a wise Design,  
How to Attack, and how to Countermine.  
Mean time their Neighbours he of Sense bereaves,  
Whom he a Prey to the Deceiver leaves.  
He puzzles famous Sages in Debate,  
And leads in Triumph Councillors of State.  
From learned Judges Wisdom he withdraws,  
And they are left, as Fools without Applause.  
He haughty Monarch's Bonds and torturing 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 overturns the Mighty in their Pride,  
And makes Men, those they dreaded once, deride.  
Warriors with spreading Laurels often crowned,  
Part of th' Almighty's Triumph shall be found,  
Dragged at his Chariot Wheels a Captive Throng  
Of Monarch's choked with Dust shall pant along.  
Tyrants despoiled shall rave at their defeat,  
And mixed 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 wrists their awful Sceptre from their Hand.  
He sinks the mighty warrior's Martial Fame,  
And covers his once glorious Head with Shame.  
Th' Almighty's bright all-penetrating Eye,  
Does Counsels deep and dark as Hell descry:  
He sees their secret Works, and Countermines  
Mysterious Statesman's most profound Designs.   

Plots wrapped in Clouds, and Death like Shades of Night,  
To him lie all exposed, as Noonday Light.   

He gives a City wide Imperial Sway,  
And does her Yoke on vanquished Nations lay.  
She on the Necks of Captive Princes treads,  
When he her Arms forth to Conquest leads;  
She does with unexhausted Wealth abound,  
And as a Mistress awes the World around.  
Then on a sudden he corrects her Pride,  
And to her Banks drives back her ebbing Tide.  
He breaks her Yoke, and rescues from her hand  
The Realms he subject made to her Command.  
He through her Streets does Desolation spread,  
And casts down from the Clouds her towering Head.  
Great Chiefs, when he rebukes them, Cowards grow,  
And all the marks of Consternation show;  
His Terrors pierce their Breasts, like poisoned Darts,  
Enfeeble and dismay the proudest Hearts.  
For Hills and Mountains they'll forsake their Home,  
And through the trackless Woods despairing Roam:  
They'll seek the lonesom, savage 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 involved in Darkness grope.  
With Wrath Divine intoxicated they,  
Like Drunken Men, shall Reel and lose their way.    

CHAP. XIII.  

Since you are pleased oft to enumerate  
God's Wise and mighty Works in this debate,  
I the same Method have observed, to show  
That I his Wonders know, no less than you.  
I do not then your long Discourses want,  
To prove those Truth's 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.  
Perversely in the Wrong you persevere,  
And to erroneous Doctrines still adhere.  
You still your Thoughts with Confidence express,  
That mighty Sufferings mighty Gild confess.  
That great Afflictions and uncommon Woe,  
Are marks the Wicked from the Just to know.  
But you unskilful vain Physicians are,  
Who know not how your Medicine 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 injured Friend,  
You to th' Almighty's Favour recommend?  
Would it your Honour or your Peace promote,  
If God your Speeches tried, who knows your Thought?  
Why will you Mock your Maker? can't his Eye  
Your Pride and want of Charity descry,  
Tho' covered with affected Piety?  
If you will Right pervert and Judgement wrest,  
Tho' this your Gild 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 Counsels vain and fruitless find,  
Like Dust, that flies before the driving Wind.  
Your high Discourses weak and tottering 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 denied, 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 glittering 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 fixed 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 straight 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 Prayer,  
And I'll with Courage stand before his Bar:  
Let him withdraw his Hand, my Pains suspend,  
And give me ease my Trial 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 myself 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 die,  
As you my Friends suggest, I must deny.  
Detect these Crimes that are to me unknown,  
And I'll the Gild 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 involved in rolling Clouds descend,  
And armed 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's, and pointed lightning fly,  
And dreadful War infest the troubled Sky,  
Only to chase the empty Straw away,  
To every Spark of Fire an easy Prey?  
Me, as a Malefactor God indicts,  
And terrible Decrees against me writes.  
Stern Justice gripes me in her rigid Arms,  
And youthful Gild afresh my Soul alarms.  
Thou dost my fettered 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 sudden Offspring of a Summer Shewer,  
Unfolds its Beauty to the Morning Ray,  
But is e'er Evening Cut, or fades away:  
So Man a while displays his gaudy 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 suddenly dissolve and disappear.  
The Flame of Life does, as a Lambent ●ire,  
Or Evening Meteor Shine, and straight expire.  
And wilt thou Man regard, and condescend  
With such a Wretch in Judgement to contend?  
I am derived 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 determined Life's laborious Race,  
And set the Bounds o'er which it cannot pass;  
Since his few fleeting Hours are quickly spent,  
And painful Life is its own Punishment;  
Let this suffice, and do not on him throw  
A crushing weight of superadded Woe.  
Grant him the Rest his Torments make him ask;  
And let him finish Life's appointed Task.  
For if a Swain with mercenary toil  
Cuts down a Tree, and 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 Whither in the Ground, and Die;  
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 through secret subterranean Caves,  
Or by the lighter Steams which fly away,  
Drawn by the Sun's attenuating Ray;  
But Heaven 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 plundering 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 supplied,  
Nor feel their leaping Life's returning Tide.  
When once the breathless Man has closed his Eyes,  
And in the silent Grave extended lies;  
In Death's close Prison he shall still remain,  
He never shall break from the rough Tyrant's Chain.  
When the last stroke of Fate is once received,  
This mortal Life can never be retrieved.   

Would God would hid me in some hollow Cave,  
Some place as safe, and silent, as the Grave;  
Till these black Storms of Wrath which overcast,  
The lowering heavens around my Head are past.  
As he has done to Life, so let him set  
Bounds to my Grief, and not those Bounds forget.  
Since none who enter once the darksome Tomb,  
This mortal Life can afterwards resume;  
'Tis best for me with patiented Hope to wait,  
Till God is pleased to change this mournful State.  
Till he is pleased his Blessings to restore,  
Those sweet Enjoyments I possessed 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' Almighty loves to lie 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 stored  
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 Wether worn,  
With inbred Tempests, or with Thunder torn,  
Does with its Ruins all the Valley spread,  
But can no more erect his lofty Head:  
Mouldered to Dust, it hopes no more to break  
The Clouds long Order with its snowy Peak.  
As a vast Rock by Earthquakes once removed,  
And from its Base amidst the Ocean shoved;  
It's shattered Pillars never after reers,  
Nor thrusts his towering Top amidst the Stars.  
As Stones which everflowing Waters wear,  
When once dissolved, their Ruins ne'er repair.  
As sweeping Inundations oft convey  
Towns, Herds, and Forests 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 Sepulchre 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 unconcerned at what's transacted here;  
For if his Sons shine in a noble Sphere,  
He'll not rejoice, nor will he e'er complain  
If they are crushed, and drag the Prisoners Chain.  
Hard Fate of Man, who either, if he dies  
Hopeless of e'er reviving, mouldering 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 addressed,  
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 〈◊〉 exposed 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 Heaven their Songs of Praise convey?  
Thy Irreligious Maxims will restrain  
All future Prayer, for Prayer will be in vain.  
Thy bold irreverent Speeches have expressed  
Th' Impiety which has thy Mind possessed.  
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 concealed,  
Which thy uncautious Tongue has now revealed.  
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' imprisoned Light,  
At God's Command sprang from the Womb of Night?  
Before aspiring Hills the Plains surveyed,  
Or verdant Meads their flowery Laps displayed;  
Before the Rocks their Craggy Ridges reered,  
Or bounding Billows in the Deep appeared;  
That by unnumbered 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 Inquiries and Experience, run  
Through all the years rolled up, since Time begun,  
That thou art full of Science, richer far  
In wise Remarks, than we thy Brethren are?  
Dost thou with God in secret Council sit?  
To his Debates does he wise job admit?  
Does Wisdom with her Favourite job abide,  
Despising all the foolish Race beside?  
On what new Worlds of Light hast thou been thrown?  
What Mines of Knowledge found, to us unknown?   

If years, of Wisdom were a certain sign,  
Our years are not inferior found to thine.  
With us is seen th' experienced, hoary Head,  
Who does in Age thy Father far exceed.  
Why as a worthless thing dost thou regard  
The Joy, the Comfort, and the blessed Reward  
Which we have offered thee with heavens assent,  
If of thy wicked Deeds thou shalt Repent?  
Hast thou (we ask thee) some peculiar ground,  
Some secret way of Consolation found?  
Shouldst thou to such Discov'ries 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 Heaven 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?  
Blessed Seraphs can't his piercing Eye endure;  
Before him bright Arch-Angels are impure.  
Those Heavenly Orders who were clean esteemed,  
And all refined and spotless Glory seemed,  
When they appear within th' Almighty's sight,  
Overwhelmed with splendour, and all-searching Light,  
They blush to see their secret Stains revealed,  
And Specks and Flaws which lay before concealed.  
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 Sufferings groan.  
Wise Men this Observation made of Old,  
Their Fathers them, and they their Children told.  
Thus has Tradition down from Ages past  
Conveyed this Truth, which is by us embraced.  
job has affirmed, that God the Earth bestows  
On the vile Race of his inveterate Foes:  
But to our Father's Judgement have respect,  
And they this groundless Error will detect.  
Wealth and Dominion was on them conferred,  
Their Piety and Virtue to reward.  
They did in Peace command the Towns around,  
And undisturbed with Inroads, tilled the ground.  
No armed Chaldeans did their Herds invade,  
Or to a Land remote their Wealth conveyed.  
While they obeyed his Laws, th' Almighty's Hand  
Was still extended to protect their Land.  
To Leagues of Peace their Neighbours did agree,  
And to maintain them, God was Guarantee.   

On th' other hand, 'tis by experience plain,  
That wicked Men consume their Days in pain.  
Th' Oppressor still is gripped with inward Fears,  
Nor shall complete the number of his years.  
When no invading Foe appears in Arms,  
His secret Gild the trembling Wretch alarms.  
He in his prosperous 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 sudden Darkness spread the Skies.  
Neighbours to Rapine bred shall from afar,  
As late on thee, advance destructive War.  
The bloody Spoilers shall his Servants slay,  
Ravage his Lands, and make his Herds a Prey.  
Like job in trouble, they'll despairing lie,  
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 Heaven 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.  
Pampered with Spoil of ruin'd Neighbours round,  
Sleek with his Fat, and with Dominion crowned;  
Luxurious, Haughty, and Presumptuous grown,  
He spurns at Heaven, and mocks th' Almighty's Throne.  
His Cruelty has laid his Country waist,  
And Cities full of Men and Wealth defaced.  
Those who survive in secret Corners weep,  
Or through the grassy Streets desponding creep.  
The empty Dwellings mossy Heaps appear,  
And all the Signs of sudden 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 tore  
His Branches off, and drive them through 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.  
Whoever in these deceitful Friends conside,  
Untimely Ruin shall correct their Pride.  
Sudden 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 flowery Pride the Olive Branches shed,  
And unripe Grapes shook off, the Vineyard spread:  
So shall th' Oppressors gaudy 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 labouring Brain dire Mischief does contrive,  
And black Deceit his teeming Heart conceive.  
But he shall bring his own Destruction forth,  
As Vipers die to give their Offspring Birth.    

CHAP. XVI.  

Then job replied, Oft has my suffering Ear,  
Such vain Discourses been compelled 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,  
Disarmed and vanquished, will you still contend?  
What has emboldened thee, O Eliphaz,  
Still to reply, tho' never to my Case?  
Were my Afflictions yours, with how much ease  
Can 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 soothe your Anguish with the softest Charms.  
My tender Accents should your Fate condole,  
And balmy Language ease your tortured Soul.  
Why should not you with equal Zeal engage  
Your utmost Skill, my Anguish to assuage?   

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 forbidden to flow,  
And the rough Waves more formidable grow.  
In higher Seas collected Sorrows roll,  
And whelm their Deluge o'er my sinking Soul.  
Oppressed beneath the ponderous load I lie,  
Weary of living, yet denied to die.  
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 lightning flies.  
My Friends elated with prodigious Pride,  
Stand gaping on me, and my Grief deride.  
From distant parts they come, not to assuage  
My Anguish, but my Sufferings to enrage.  
God has exposed me likewise to the Bands  
Of fierce invaders from the neighbouring Lands,  
And given me up a Prey to impious hands.  
My Dwelling flourished, and I lived at ease,  
With Plenty blest, and the soft Joys of Peace;  
When God denounced his unexpected War,  
And with his Darts did me asunder tore.  
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 tortured Entrails buried lie.  
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 Giant eager to engage.  
Sackcloth I wear, of Ornaments despoiled,  
And in the Dust my Glory lies defiled.  
My Cheeks with Everlasting Weep fade,  
And on my Eyelids hangs a dismal shade.   

Yet no Injustice does in job appear,  
As you my Friends unkindly would infer,  
Pure is my Prayer, my Heart within sincere.  
If e'er a Man by my flagitious hand  
Vexed and Oppressed, has perished from the Land,  
Let not thy Womb, O Earth, his Blood conceal,  
But to the Light my black Offence reveal;  
That public 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 Heaven, let Heaven 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 urged on either side;  
From your Indictment he would me release,  
And I, my Virtue cleared, should die in Peace.  
And, O, that God would soon my Trial hear,  
And Judgement give before I disappear.  
For when a few more fleeting days are past,  
I in the Arms of Death shall lie embraced.    

CH. XVII.  

Corruption my consuming Flesh devours,  
And Time has almost paid my numbered hours.  
The opening Grave invites me to her Womb,  
And in the Dust prepares to give me Room.  
But clear, before I die, 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 wished-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 raised a strong impenetrable Fence.  
Such Gates of Darkness ne'er to be unbarred,  
Such Forts of gloomy Shades the Passes guard,  
That Reason's strongest Forces they repel,  
Entrenched 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 Heaven their Neighbour wrong,  
Shall not their Power and prosperous days prolong.  
Destructive Sufferings 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,  
Through 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 spread,  
And still fresh Streams the gazing Deluge fed.  
As I advanced, the eager, wondering Throng  
Their Eyeballs strained, to see me pass along;  
They feasted on me with their greedy Eyes,  
And with Applauses filled th' echoing 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 Sufferings see,  
Is job thus changed? Good heavens! it cannot be.  
My Eyes with Sorrow sunk within my Head,  
Of Light defrauded, seem already dead.  
So much my Flesh and Vigour I have lost,  
I seem an empty Shade, or groaning Ghost.  
But the Good Man will pity, not arraign  
Afflicted job, to aggravate his Pain.  
He will revere this Providential Turn,  
Not judge my Person, but my Sufferings mourn.  
Tho' he with wonder shall observe the Just,  
Are by th' Almighty trodden in the Dust,  
Yet he with sacred Indignation pressed,  
Shall shun the Wicked, and his way detest.  
He for afflicted Virtue shall declare,  
And Innocence to prosperous Sin prefer.  
He shall the Heavenly Path of Justice keep,  
However rough, embarast, dark and steep.  
Let him by bloody Outlaws be oppressed,  
And Robbers, who the Way to Heaven 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 Godlike traveler shall his Path pursue,  
Whose very Sufferings 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 prosperous 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,  
Farewell ye Cares, that once possessed 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.   

Alas 'tis madness to expect that Rest  
And Restoration, which my Friends suggest;  
For by a fixed, irrevocable Doom,  
My Grave's prepared, 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 lie.    

CH. XVIII.  

Then Bil●ad thus:  
When wilt thou finish thy prolix Discourse,  
Sounding indeed enough, but void of Force?  
Consider what shall be alleged, and then  
To thy Objections we'll reply again.  
What does thy wondrous Arrogance create?  
What self-sufficient Fullness thee elate?  
What secret Stores of Wisdom hast thou found,  
And what new Lights have thy Inquiries crowned?  
That we such vile and senseless Creatures seem,  
And are but stupid Beasts in thy esteem?  
Impatience and ungovernable Rage,  
Thy furious Hands against thyself 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 steady Nature her old Course forsake?  
Shall Rocks and Mountains from their Pillars leap,  
Sink down, and humble their aspiring Heap?  
Shall Floods and rapid Rivers sullen grow,  
Bind up their Waters, and refuse to flow?  
Shall God his Truth and Justice disregard,  
Neglect the Righteous, and th' unjust reward?  
Shall he subvert all Order, with intent  
Thy vain Complaints and Clamours to prevent?  
O job, in spite of thy Objections, take  
This Rule as sure, that God will ever make  
A due distinction of the Good and Bad,  
And sparing those, his Wrath shall these invade.   

The Splendour of the Wicked shall decay,  
And rising Fogs shall choke his glorious Day.  
His brightest Beams, like short-lived Sparks of Fire,  
Or Flashing lightning shine, and straight 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 cheerful Lamp within dispel the Night.  
He in his wisest steps shall unawares,  
Be fettered 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 destroyed, 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 Forests 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 Fabric crack,  
His Joints grow feeble, and his Sinews slack.  
Fierce ravening Woes his Flesh and Strength consume,  
And Desolation in his heavy Doom.  
Death and Destruction o'er 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 crowned,  
Anguish with all her Agonies around,  
Wild Consternation with erected Hair,  
Yell, 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'erturned high Sodoms and Gomorrah's Towers,  
The flaming Inundation from the place,  
Swept off their Dwellings, and the impious Race.  
So shall the proud Oppressor be devoured,  
Such Fire and Brimstone on his Palace poured;  
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 lie around.  
In aftertimes he'll be unknown to Fame,  
Or mentioned 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 sudden Ruin, and his dismal Fate;  
As that he lived in, was amazed to see  
So strange a Turn, such Woe and Misery.  
So shall the Hopes of all the wicked end,  
Such Desolation does their House attend.    

CH. XIX.  

Then job replied:  
How long will you my righteous Cause perplex?  
How long my Ears with idle Speeches vex?  
Must Answers void of Sense and Argument,  
And grave Impertinence my Soul torment?  
You wound me with your contumelious words,  
And slanders sharper than the keenest Swords.  
job in Affliction you refuse to know,  
And a shy Stranger's unconcernness show.  
Grant I have sinned, 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 pressed beneath his heavy Vengeance groan.  
Inevitable Snares his hand has set,  
And drawn around me his destructive Net.  
To Heaven with fruitless Accents I complain  
Of this hard measure, this excess of Pain,  
And Cry to be redressed, but Cry in vain.  
By Heaven 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 fenced me in with such a close Blockade;  
That I must ever lie without Relief  
In this dark Prison, this Strong-hold of Grief.  
No golden thread of Light the way will show,  
And let me through this Labyrinth of Woe.  
Of all my Glory I am stripped, the Crown  
From my dishonoured Head is fallen down;  
I've lost my Power, my Children, my Renown.  
I'm perfectly destroyed, I'm lost, undone  
And never to return, my Hope is gone.  
A miserable Object here I lie,  
A Wretch that would not live, and cannot die.   

His Fury kindles of its own accord,  
And unprovok'd, he waves his glittering Sword;  
Against me as his Foe, he throws his Dart,  
And yet he knows my Zeal, and upright Heart.  
Black Troops of Sufferings, Regimented Woes  
In Battle drawn, their swarming Throngs disclose;  
On me they come, and marking out the Ground,  
Th' Infernal Legions lie encamped around.  
Brethren and Kindred treat me as unknown,  
Break Nature's Bonds, and their own Blood disown.  
Familiar Friends, who kindly me embraced,  
Forget me now, and all our Friendship past.  
Those of my Household 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 lie.  
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 children's 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 chief I before  
Esteemed and loved, now chief me abhor.  
My Skin and Flesh are perished from the Bone,  
The Boils have spared my Mouth and Lips alone,  
To let me make my lamentable moan.   

Some Pity, O my Friends, some Pity take  
On my distress, for ancient Friendship's sake.  
I am abandoned, and despairing left,  
Of Riches, Honour, Children, Friends bereft.  
Remark the grievous Wounds my sore Disease  
Has made through all my Flesh, but what are these  
Compared 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 Privilege of God,  
And when you please, afflict me with your Rod?  
Inhuman Friends! say, does it not suffice,  
That all consumed 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 Registered, 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 Heaven in Triumph shall descend.  
He on the Surface of the Earth shall stand,  
And from the Grave his Captive Saints demand.  
The slumbering 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 Prisoners free.  
It shall new warmth and vital Vigour spread,  
Through all the cold Apartments of the Dead.  
It shall in Triumph march through Shades beneath,  
Through all the dusty Galleries of Death.  
Th' invading Conqueror shall Sack the Grave,  
Force every Tomb, and rescue every Slave.  
Destruction's Empire shall no longer last,  
Death from her sad Dominions shall be chased,  
And Desolation laid for ever waste.  
From opening Tombs th' enlivened Dead shall rise,  
And to enjoy the Light lift up their wondering 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 myself shall see the blessed sight,  
For my own Profit, for my vast Delight.  
He shall my Virtue from your Slanders clear,  
Assert my Cause, and job pronounce sincere.  
This is th' unshaken Pillar of my Hope,  
This does my Soul oppressed with Sorrow prop;  
That though, as I have said, the ravening Worm  
Shall eat my Flesh, and break this mortal Form,  
My reunited Parts I shall assume,  
When my Redeemer does to Judgement come,  
For ever to be cleared 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 Heaven consuming Wrath reveal,  
Against all fierce, uncharitable Zeal.  
The Day is coming, when the Judge supreme  
Will your rash Words and Cruelty condemn.    

CH. XX.  

He said, and Zophar thus in heat replied:  
Such is thy Obstinacy, such thy Pride;  
With such disdain thou dost our Reason's 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 designed,  
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 Heaven with thy Complaints alarm,  
And mark us out for God's vindictive Arm;  
I must my settled Resolution break;  
For thus provoked, 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 makest to Wisdom such pretence,  
Not yet remarked the Course of Providence?  
How since the Earth's Foundations first were laid,  
Through all the Revolutions Time has made,  
The Triumphs of th' unjust have quickly passed,  
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'erturned and ruin'd he deserts the Skies,  
And in the Dust dispersed 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 seized with Wonder, for his Place inquire.  
Astonished, they these questions oft repeat,  
Where can we find him now? where is his Seat?  
His Fame and short-lived Glory disappear,  
Like thin Illusions formed of gaudy 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 Sufferings publicly complain;  
Those to restore their Substance are compelled,  
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 embraced,  
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 swallowed down so slow,  
Does in his Bowels Gall and Wormwood grow.  
It does like Poison, rage's along his Veins,  
And gripes and racks him with tormenting pains.   

What if th' Oppressor Riches has devoured,  
And down his Throat unmeasured Treasure poured?  
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 beguile,  
And from his Bowels wrest the wealthy Spoil.  
The profitable and delightful Sin,  
Which he has sucked with so much pleasure in,  
Shall like a Viper gnaw and tore his Heart,  
And wound his Entrails, like a poisoned Dart.  
The Streams of Joy, and Rivers of Delight,  
Which he believed, 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 redressed,  
Which he by Fraud or Violence oppressed,  
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 Gild,  
The Dwelling he has seized another built.  
Therefore his inward Gripes and conscious Fear,  
With self-revenging Pains his heart shall tore.  
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 inquire, for none he'll hope to find.  
When he shall most with Power and Wealth abound,  
With Guards encompassed, and with Empire crowned,  
Then sudden Mischiefs shall his Seat surround.  
Fierce Bands of Spoilers shall his Lands invade,  
And far away his Wealth shall be conveyed.  
When he designs his Riches to enjoy,  
And all his Senses with Delights to cloy,  
A dismal storm of Wrath Divine shall rise,  
And gathering Vengeance shall disturb the Skies.  
While he is feasting, free from Fear or Care,  
The heavens 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 through.  
Officious Friends to heal his wounded Veins,  
Shall draw the bloody Weapon from his Reins,  
Whose glittering point distained with issuing Gall,  
Shows certain Death attends his sudden fall.  
He shall in raging Pangs and Horror lie,  
Hopeless of Life, and yet afraid to die.  
Against him God shall Storms and Plagues provide,  
And stores of Wrath in secret places hid.  
He his dark Caves and Magazines shall stow,  
With chosen Vengeance and collected Woe.  
From cleaving Clouds a fiery Tempest poured,  
Like that which on the Hills thy Flocks devoured,  
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 Heaven by dreadful Judgements 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 gained shall flow away,  
Like rapid Torrents, in that dreadful Day,  
When God provoked 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 tied;  
He's the right Heir, with him it shall abide.    

CH. XXI.  

And then afflicted job replied: 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 suffering Friend again.   

When I in bitter Anguish make my moan,  
Do I complain of cruel Man alone?  
I oft with Reason do, and must declare,  
That God's vindictive Arm is too severe.  
That I the mark of all his Weapons stand,  
While Men more guilty scape his vengeful Hand.  
But what if I of Man alone complain?  
Is my Complaint unjust, because 'tis vain?  
Have I not reason to indulge my Grief,  
When neither Man nor God afford Relief?  
Consider well my sad afflicted State,  
My unexampled Sufferings 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 favourites shine,  
That vile and irreligious Wretches cloy  
Their pampered 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 Heaven and Earth alike hard measure find;  
Are marked and singled out to undergo  
Th' Almighty's Anger, and th' Oppressor's blow;  
Puzzled, confounded and amazed I stand,  
And can't forbear a Reason to demand  
Of this unequal Distribution, why  
The Impious thrive, the Just despairing lie.  
Here I from Heaven 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 Grey.  
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 Valley fill.  
Their verdant Meadows pour such Riches forth,  
Strong Mower's groan to heave th' unwieldy 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 heighten yet the Pleasure of the Day,  
They take the Harp, and on the Timbrel play.  
They're ravished with the Singer's charming Voice,  
And at the Organ's cheerful Sound rejoice.  
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 Heavenly Graces they contemn,  
And Godlike 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 Heaven devoutly send?   

But as 'tis impious, so 'tis foolish too,  
Such Pride, and such Contempt of Heaven to show:  
This Man's own hand his Riches can't defend,  
On God whom he provokes, he must depend.  
Let him be rich, I can't his Conduct praise,  
Nor shall I imitate the Sinner's ways.  
For tho' 'tis certain that you grossly err,  
When you with so much Confidence aver,  
That the good Man God's favour still enjoys,  
But that his Fury all th' unjust destroys;  
Yet by experience taught I must avow,  
That tho' not always, yet 'tis often so.  
I grant, destruction oft th' unjust invades,  
That oft the glory of the Wicked fades.  
Their impious Deeds th' Almighty oft incense,  
Who does his Judgements on their Heads dispense.  
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 through the Sky.  
Their Gild 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 embittered Bowl,  
And their dim Eyes shall in Destruction roll.  
What Comfort, what Delight shall they derive  
From all their Offspring, who shall them survive;  
When an untimely Violence has shut  
Their Eyelids, and their Days in sunder cut?   

Thus that the wicked suffer I assert,  
But 'tis not all, nor yet the greatest part.  
I grant, the Just too sometimes prosperous 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 expressed,  
Because you fancy this becomes him best?  
Does not th' All-searching God exactly know,  
And judge blessed 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 through whose Bones a Marrow Flood descends,  
Shall lie extended in the Grave beneath,  
Lopped by an unexpected stroke of Death:  
Another wretched Sufferer who has spent  
His mournful days in Grief and Discontent,  
In torturing Pains and bitter Anguish lies,  
Nor till he's worn with lingering Sickness, dies.  
The friendly Grave does both alike embrace,  
And all Distinction's former marks efface:  
The Worm alike does on their Body's 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 expressed,  
Th' imaginations lodged within your Breast.  
Your inward thoughts your suffering 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 flourished 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 prosperous Pride.  
'Tis plain, they often flourish, tho' 'tis true,  
That Vengeance sometimes does their Crimes pursue.  
From present Troubles some are kept with care,  
For greater Shame, and Judgements more severe.  
God shall in solemn Triumph lead them forth,  
To suffer public, ignominious Wrath.  
They Fat for Ruin, and for Slaughter fed,  
With Garlands crowned, and Crowds around them spread,  
Are to Destruction's bloody Altar led.  
Oft on the Wicked dreadful Judgements wait,  
But Power and Plenty is their usual Fate.   

Awed 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 vie  
With his past Life, and great prosperity;  
For, as he lived in Pride and State, he'll die.  
His mourning Friends with sad magnificence,  
With honourable Pomp, and vast expense,  
Shall in the Dust th' ungodly heap inter,  
And paint and carve his stately Sepulchre.  
The Corpse embalmed with wondrous Cost and Art,  
Shall rest entire, and ●ound in every part,  
That 'twill a living Watchman posted there  
To guard the Dead, not a Dead Corpse appear.  
He in the Grave shall find a sweet repose,  
From Cares delivered, and from threatening 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 prosperous days  
I yet might see, would I amend my ways?  
Experience your Assertion contradicts,  
And shows, that Heaven the Righteous oft afflicts:  
That the best Men prodigious Sufferings bear,  
While God is pleased great Wickedness to spare.    

CH XXII.  

Then Eliphaz:  
If undefiled thou dost thy Virtue keep,  
Is God obliged? 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 enjoin,  
Does he his own Advancement seek, or Thine?  
If thou art Good the Profit is thy own,  
God needs thee not, he on his Heavenly Throne  
Crowned with Essential Bliss, in Triumph ●its,  
Unmeasured Bliss which no increase admits.  
Does he in Wrath attempt thy overthrow,  
Fearing in time thou shouldst too Potent grow?  
I grant thy Sufferings great and numerous are,  
But with thy Gild they just Proportion bear.  
Justice Divine its Banks ne'er overflows,  
All monstrous Sufferings, monstrous Crimes suppose.   

Either thy Neighbour's Pledge thou hast detained,  
And by Extortion hast his Substance drained:  
Or of his Garment thou hast stripped the Poor,  
And sent him Naked from thy cruel Door.  
Or to the Man with burning Sunbeams fried,  
At his last Gasp thou hast thy Spring denied.  
Or thou hast seen thy hungry Neighbour die  
For want of Bread, which thou wouldst not supply.  
Or else unjustly to the Rich and Great,  
Thou hast decreed fewer 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 encompassed round,  
And sudden 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 enthroned 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 Gulf of Air that lies between,  
And from his sight thick Clouds the Sinner screen.  
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,  
Contemned his Favour, and his Threats defied.  
They cried, if we Religion's Rule regard,  
Who will our Pains, and pious Zeal reward?  
Yet God their Houses with Abundance blest,  
Enlarged their Empire, and their Stores increased.  
But who was by their Wealth to Envy moved,  
Or who their impious Words or Ways approved?  
For tho' like thee, they Peace a while enjoyed,  
Yet they at last were from the Earth destroyed.  
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 Judgements raise.  
They shall th' Oppressor's Pomp and Power deride,  
When heavens just Vengeance thus corrects their Pride.  
The wicked perish, while the pious Race  
Of Patriarches, whence our Descent we trace,  
Favoured by Heaven, possessed their ancient place.  
They never were to Desolation doomed,  
Never by such prodigious Fire consumed,  
As raining down from Heaven in flaming Showers,  
Destroyed proud Sodoms and Gomorrah's Towers.   

Wherefore, O job, to God with speed return,  
With deep Contrition thy Offences mourn;  
Overwhelmed with Shame and Sorrow, prostrate lie  
Before his Feet, and for Compassion cry.  
Let humble Prayer and penitential Tears,  
Appease heavens Wrath, and thus remove thy Fears.  
When God is pleased, all Nature will express  
A forward Zeal t' advance thy Happiness.  
God's gracious Aspect, with its Heavenly Light,  
Will dissipate this dark tempestuous Night.  
Joy will arise, and with its cheerful Ray,  
Chase all these sullen Clouds of Grief away.   

Will job profane 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 revealed  
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 blessed Instructions, and his Heavenly Word.  
If thou sincerely will't thy Life devote  
To virtuous Deeds, and wilt with Zeal promote  
Th' Almighty's Honour and Religion's 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 glittering 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, adorned 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 lie like Stones on every River's Shore.  
Wedges of Silver from the purest Mine  
Piled 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 Heaven 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 Heavenly Light display▪  
To solace, and to guide thee in thy way.  
He shall protect thy Paths, thy Counsels bless,  
And crown thy Undertake with Success.  
When wicked Men shall be around destroyed,  
Stripped of the Power and Wealth they once enjoyed:  
Thou shalt not feel th' Almighty's wrathful hand,  
But undisturbed 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 thyself alone;  
If thou shalt Supplication for them make,  
Thy Neighbours round shall prosper for thy sake.    

CH. XXIII.  

But job replied:  
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  
Myself 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 show 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 rigorous 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 Gild 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 control me with his Sovereign 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 estranged he has my search declined.  
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 through 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 Judgement 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 Heavenly Road.  
I ne'er the rough and steepy Way declined,  
But to th' Almighty's Will, my own resigned.  
Through threatening Dangers I my passage made,  
Of no low Gulf, or sharp Ascent afraid.  
heavens sacred Precepts still I did obey,  
And always shunned the smooth, but crooked Way,  
In which lost Sinners from their Maker stray.  
I have preserved th' Almighty's sacred Word,  
As wealthy Men their choicest Treasures Hoard.  
To save the precious Store, I ever showed  
As much Concern, as for my daily Food.  
But tho' th' Eternal Mind did always see  
These pregnant Proofs of my Integrity,  
Inflexibly resolved he'll ne'er relent,  
Nor of his harsh proceeding e'er repent.  
Confirmed in Wrath he will not change his Mind,  
Never for me a tender Passion find.  
My Sufferings to accomplish he'll proceed,  
And execute the Wrath he has decreed.   

The Righteous by him often are oppressed,  
For secret Reasons lodged within his Breast.  
This is his Pleasure, who shall dare dispute  
His Sovereign 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,  
Armed with resistless, Arbitrary Power.  
Therefore when I my great Creator see  
Clothed with August, Imperial Majesty,  
I at his awful Presence shake with fear,  
Nor can the Sight of Sovereign 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 whelmed me over:  
Because he ne'er 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.  
Even those who most his righteous Laws obey,  
And mark with care his Providential way,  
Are unacquainted with his Judgement Day.  
They know of no determined, certain Times,  
When he will visit men's provoking Crimes.   

Some Men remove with their perfidious Hands,  
The Marks that bond appropriated Lands.  
They take their Neighbour's Goats from off the Rocks,  
And from the Airy Downs their Woolly Flocks.  
With wicked Spoils they feast their Luxury,  
And gorged with Rapine on their Couches lie.  
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 Forest stray.  
Th' affrighted Trav'llers to the Mountains fly,  
And to escape their Rage in Caverns lie.   

Other vile Men frequented Towns forsake,  
And their Abode in desert Places make.  
Where Wild and Savage 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 sudden Inroads on their Neighbours make,  
And from their Fields by Force their Harvest take.  
They from fewer Vine the Clusters tear  
And the rich Spoil to their own Presses bear.  
To their Strong-Holds their Booty they convey;  
They strip the labourers, make them naked stray,  
Exposed to Cold by Night, to Heat by Day.  
The Wretches when they hear a Tempest rise,  
And see the gathering Clouds o'erspred the Skies,  
To neighbouring Rocks their Flight for Refuge bend;  
Their craggy Arms the friendly Rocks extend;  
Embrace, and hid 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, labouring Swains, and wrest  
The struggling Infant from the Nurse's Breast.  
They lead them stripped and starving to their Caves,  
And treat the helpless Creatures, as their Slaves.  
Tho' their illgotten Substance be immense,  
Yet they despoil with savage Violence  
Their hungry Captives of that little Fruit  
Which they had gleaned 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 taste, tho' fried with Heat, one drop of Wine.  
These desperate Outlaws distant Towns invade,  
Their cruel Yoke is on whole Cities laid.  
In whose sad Streets the suffering People groan,  
And make, like wounded Men, a dismal Moan.   

There is, besides this more audacious Race,  
Whose open Crimes the Noonday Sun outface;  
A sort of secret Sinners, who require  
Darkness to hid them, and from Light retire.  
For instance, at th' uncertain Dawn of Day,  
The lurking Murderer 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 stolen 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 assuage 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 discovered, all the marks of Fear  
And Consternation, in his Looks appear.   

To this vile Crew you may the Pirate add,  
Who puts to Sea the Merchant to invade,  
And reaps the Profit of another's Trade.  
He skulks behind some Rock, or swiftly flies  
From Creek to Creek, rich Vessels to surprise.  
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 hid 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 Judge's 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 designed you, to dispatch.   

These in their wicked Courses, free from fear,  
Because they live unpunished, persevere.  
'Tis true, th' Almighty sees their Insolence,  
But unconcerned, no Vengeance does dispense.  
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 lived, they unmolested Dye.  
They to the Grave a quiet, easy Bed  
In Peace, as much as others, are conveyed,  
Part of the long Procession of the Dead.  
With grievous Sickness they are ne'er distressed,  
Nor die with long tormenting Pains oppressed.  
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 die, they gently melt, as Snow.  
God no such marks of Wrath does on them set,  
But that the Mothers may their Sons forget.  
Their bodies hang not by the public way,  
To Men a Terror, and to Beasts a Prey.  
But Men in Pomp their Carcases inter,  
To be a Feast for Worms, as others are.  
There they enjoy profound Tranquillity,  
And buried with them their Oppressions lie.  
When they are Dead, the Age that next succeeds,  
As quickly will forget their wicked Deeds,  
As a lost Tree by Time to Atoms worn,  
Or by a riving Storm to Shivers torn.  
I these remarks deliberately have weighed,  
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 answered, Why does job delight  
Thus to reflect on Wisdom Infinite?  
Wilt thou th' Almighty's Providence correct,  
And charge him with Injustice, or Neglect?  
As if he ne'er did Righteousness regard,  
And did the Impious, not the Just reward?  
Or else as if he ne'er did interpose,  
But doubtful Chance did all Events dispose.  
Should not his awful Majesty deter  
Thy Arrogance, and make thee shake with fear?  
His Creatures never should debating stand,  
But straight obey his absolute Command.  
This low Terrestrial World does not alone,  
His Sovereign Rule and Jurisdiction own;  
His Empire is of unconfined 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 Godlike People of the Sky,  
Adore the depths of Providence Divine,  
And to th' Almighty's Will, their Wills resign.  
And yet shall discontented job debate  
His Case with God, and quarrel with his Fate?  
His Empire to protect, and to control  
Uproar and Strife, what Troops can he enrol?  
What mighty Arms can th' Almighty head?  
What numerous Brigades to Battle lead?  
Myriad of Angels lie encamped on high,  
His Household Squadrons that defend the Sky:  
Sabres of Flame th' Immortal Warriors wield,  
And now in ●iery Chariots take the Field;  
Now high in Air the Wing'd Battalions rise;  
And glorious War hangs hover in the Skies.  
Along th' inferior Air at his Command,  
His mustering Meteors Regimented stand.  
Tempests of Thunder, Whirlwinds, Rain and Fire  
To fight th' Almighty's Battles will conspire.  
All Nature at his beck, if Rebels rage,  
Straight 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 dispense  
His cheering Beams, and fruitful Influence.  
Wide as the World, God has his Table spread,  
At his Expense are all his Creatures fed.  
Who of his Regal Bounty does not taste?  
Whose Stores, if not supplied 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 Heaven 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 wholesome, unpolluted Stream,  
From an impure, infected Fountain came.  
Can a wild Vine a generous Vintage bring?  
From a base Stock, can noble Branches spring?  
The Constellations that adorn the Sky,  
Reveal their Spots to God's All-searching Eye,  
Then what foul Stains will he in Man descry?  
In Man, a worthless Worm, who turns to Dust  
And Putrefaction, whence he sprang at first.    

CH. XXVI.  

Then pious job did Bildad thus bespeak:  
To cheer 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 blessed Instructions, and thy grave Advice,  
Can teach the Blind, and make the stupid Wise.  
Displayed by thy Divine Discourse I find  
A Heavenly Day irradiates my Mind.  
Thou hast thy point by solid Reason proved,  
And like an Oracle, all doubts removed.  
What knowing Spirit has thy Bosom fired,  
For thou hast argued, as a Man inspired?  
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 formed that play,  
And bound above the Bosom of the Sea;  
Wild Water-Gyants, hideous Forms that reign  
Lords of the vast, inhospitable Main:  
A savage Race that range the liquid Fields,  
And fill with Rapine all the wavy wild's.  
All the mute Nations of the deep Abyss,  
And Finny People of the Floods are his.  
To hid 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 ponderous Earth in liquid Air,  
And his Command and Providential Care,  
Are the sole Pillars that support it there.  
He bids the lose and fluid Clouds sustain  
Imprisoned Tempests, and suspend the Rain.  
Distended with the Waters in 'em penned,  
Their Wombs hang low in Air, but are not rend.  
But then at his Command, successive Drops  
Distil from Heaven, and crown the Farmer's Hopes.  
Lest his high Throne above expression bright,  
With deadly Glory should oppress our sight,  
To break the dazzling Force, he draws a Screen  
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 ordered 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  
Reered to sustain the heavens 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 threatening 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 hushed, the Ocean at his Frown  
Shrinks in, and calls its towering Surges down.  
The trembling Waves creep softly to the Shore,  
And Tempests overawed no longer roar.  
The Heavenly Spheres around in Order turned,  
With clust'ring Constellations he adorned.  
He the great Serpent formed, and bid him roll  
His Starry Volumes round the Northern Pole.  
These of his Works are part, but still I own  
To us his Wonders are but little known.  
To such extent who can his Reason stretch,  
As his vast Power and Providence can reach?  
His boundless Wisdom who can comprehend?  
Who will to search the dark Abyss descend?  
Who can his Wonders number, who declare  
Of Energy divine the utmost Sphere?    

CH. XXVII.  

The Pious job here paused a while, and stayed  
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 denied,  
And my vexed Soul with sharp Affliction tried,  
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 Falsehood will I mix in this debate,  
Nor with perfidious Lips express Deceit.  
Under the Censure of my Friends I lie  
Charged 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?  
Forbidden, O Heaven, that I should ever own  
So black a Charge of Crimes to me unknown.  
I till I Dye will steadfastly assert  
The pure Intention of my upright Heart;  
From this Profession will I ne'er departed.  
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 stored  
With the rich Spoils that Ophir's Mines afford?  
What if he spends his happy Days and Nights,  
In softest Joys and undisturbed Delights?  
Where is his Hope at last, when God shall wrest  
His trembling Soul from his reluctant Breast?  
Must he not then heavens Vengeance undergo,  
Condemned 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 bathed 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 Heaven 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 pleased his Conduct to direct.  
All you yourselves 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 devoured  
By lingering Famine, or the raging Sword.  
Untimely Death his Offspring shall consume,  
And sink them deep in black Oblivion's Womb.  
His Wives well pleased 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 embroidered 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 injured Poor.  
His Dwelling, like the Moths, shall soon decay,  
Which settles in a Garment for a Day;  
But suddenly is crushed, and swept away.  
Or like the Lodge, a Keeper does erect,  
His Garden Fruit or Vintage to protect;  
Which, when the Swain has gathered in his Store,  
Is pulled as quickly down, as reered before.   

When Heaven th' Oppressor shall of Life bereave,  
The Wretch no Funeral Honours shall receive.  
His cursed Corpse exposed to open Day,  
Shall lie to ravening Beasts and Birds a Prey.  
While one with open Eyes can look around,  
Heaven 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 through wild's of Air.  
God shall his fatal Darts against him throw,  
Nor will he spare him, when involved in Woe.  
The miserable Man for Mercy cries,  
In vain he weeps, and prays, in vain he flies.  
His Neighbours round shall his just fall deride,  
Applauding Heaven, 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 pleased 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 untie  
The hard perplexing Knot, the Fact deny.  
As if you thought your narrow Wit and Sense,  
Can reach th' unfathomed Depths of Providence.  
In things below your Wisdom may appear,  
But these are Heights that far surmount your Sphere.    

CH. XXVIII  

Adventurous 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' embowelled Earth.  
The sweaty Smelter finds a proper place,  
Where from the Dross to purge the precious Mass.  
Men dig out ponderous Iron from the Mine,  
And Molten Copper in the Flames refine.  
The Miner searches all the Seats beneath,  
Gloomy and lonesome, as the Shades of Death.  
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, through 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 stored,  
And fatty Minerals full of Fire afford.  
Here beauteous Saphires far remote from Day,  
Do a blue Heaven midst common Stones display.  
Here Nature scatters with a lavish hand,  
And with the Rubbish mingles golden Sand.  
No Fowl of Heaven, no not the Vulture's Eye  
Famed for quick Sight, did e'er these Seats descry.  
Those Sons of Pride the Lions never found  
These Caves, and dark Recesses under ground.  
To Beasts and Birds these Regions are unknown,  
By Men discovered, and by Men alone:  
By Men who cut through hardest Rocks their way,  
Dig through the Hills, and Mountains levelly lay;  
That the Metallic Wealth may be revealed,  
Which in their massy Bowels lies concealed.  
If rising Springs overflow 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 heavens deep Counsels comprehend?  
Who can inform th' Enquirer, who can tell  
Where Skill Divine, and Heavenly Wisdom dwell?  
For senseless Man its value does not know,  
'Tis never found midst Mortals here below.  
The Land exclaims aloud, I am not blest  
To be th' abode of this Celestial Guest.  
The Sea and all its noisy Waves, declare,  
In vain you seek the sacred Stranger here.  
Th' Infernal Deep cries with a hollow Sound,  
Here's no Apartment for her under ground.  
Th' unvaluable Blessing can't be bought,  
With all the golden Wealth from Ophir brought.  
He that has Wisdom Rubies will despise,  
And Pearl, if tendered as an equal Price.  
Saphires and Diamonds, with vast labour sought,  
The Topaz fetched from Countries far remote;  
Which worn by mighty Kings, attract regard,  
Are worthless Toys, with this bright Gem compared.  
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'er saw Wisdom; to our secret Caves  
We the Celestial Stranger ne'er conveyed,  
Nor hide 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 blessed abode.  
For he surveys from heavens 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' extremest Bound'ries of its Soil.  
He forms the various Meteors which appear  
Through 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 searched with care  
His own Allseeing Mind, and found it there.  
He oft reflected on the sacred Guest,  
Which had her sixth abode within his Breast,  
And in his Works her Godlike Form expressed.  
But then to Man, to whom he had denied  
The perfect Knowledge of his Ways, he cried,  
The Fear of God is Wisdom, to departed  
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 venturous Oar,  
Wouldst thou be safe, then keep upon the Shore,  
And from afar this awful Deep adore.  
Thy Happiness in being Righteous lies,  
Be Good, and in Perfection thou art wise.  
Justly thou mayst despise the boastful Schools,  
And learned Cant of grave, disputing Fools.    

CH. XXIX.  

Moreover job continued thus, and said:  
O that the happy Days might be restored,  
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 washed our Feet.   

Besides the Harvest of my richer Soil,  
Even Rocks themselves poured Rivers out of Oil.  
When through the Streets I marched in Princely State,  
To fit in Judgement in the City Gate;  
The younger Men, soon as my Face they saw,  
Drew back through Fear, or reverential Awe.  
The Aged Fathers as I passed along,  
Stood up, and bowed amidst the gazing throng.  
Princes and Lords, of ancient noble Blood,  
To show 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 sufferers from his griping hand.  
The Poor and Helpless when almost devoured,  
Rescued by me, on me their Blessings poured.  
A Father's Place to Orphans I supplied,  
And made the Widow joyful, as a Bride.  
With Righteousness and Mercy clothed I ●ate,  
Awful, as dressed in splendid Robes of State.  
And spotless Justice won me more esteem,  
Then a great Monarch's Guards or Diadem.  
Refreshed by me, the Naked, Blind and Lame,  
Through ringing Streets my Bounty did proclaim.  
I with Paternal Bowels fed the Poor,  
No needy Wretch went Hungry from my Door.  
Those Frauds and Injuries, of which th' Oppressed  
Durst not complain, I sought out and redressed.  
My righteous Hand broke fierce Oppressor's Jaws,  
And of their Spoil disseized 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 prosperous, and increase,  
Till they exceed the Sands around the Seas.  
With neighbouring Streams below my Root was fed,  
And from above kind Heaven 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 Judgement sat  
Profoundly Silent, did around me wait.  
Like clust'ring Bees upon my Lips they hung,  
And sucked the Words, like Honey from my Tongue.  
To my Discourses no reply was made,  
My Dictates were, as Oracles obeyed.  
My Speech upon them dropped like Summer Rai●,  
That falls from Heaven 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 reverence paid.  
What way to follow I th' Enquirer told,  
And all men's doubtful Questions did unfold.  
I sat as Chief, while they around did stand,  
My Looks and Language did their Minds command.  
When I appeared, they did such Joy express,  
As shouting Arms 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 changed my State,  
Such are my Wants, and such my Woes of late,  
That those young Men my Poverty deride,  
To whose entreating Fathers I denied  
The Privilege 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 wandered Hoary Beggars through the Street:  
Oppressed with Want and Famine, till at last,  
They were, like Thiefs, from every City chased.  
Trembling with fear, to shun their Neighbour's sight,  
To solitary Woods they took their Flight,  
Roamed over the Plains by Day, and skulked in Hills by Night.  
In thorny Dens and rocky Caves they lay,  
To Lion's Hunger, or their own, a Prey.  
Of Juniper they Eat the bitter Root,  
Unsavoury Herbs, and wild, unwholesome Fruit.  
To ease their Hunger with Supplies of Food,  
They made the Mountains bare, and stripped the Wood  
Brambles and Thorny Branches they devour,  
Beneath whose shelter they had lodged before.  
A Stock so Vile, a Progeny so base,  
Ne'er brought on Humane Nature more disgrace,  
Ne'er was a Kingdom cursed with such a Race.  
Yet to their Sons I am a standing Jest;  
So low is job, so Poor, and so Oppressed.  
What Contumelious Insults have I born  
From these vile Men, what unexampled Scorn?  
With bitter Scoffs they suffering job revile,  
And pass me by with a disdainful Smile.  
They have me in Contempt, abhor my sight,  
And as from one Infected, take their Flight.  
They dare affront, and mock me to my Face,  
Since God is pleased on job to bring disgrace,  
And to afflict me does his Power engage,  
They too unbridle all their savage Rage.  
Young Striplings, poor afflicted job despise,  
And to obstruct my way, against me rise.  
No Methods, no Devices they neglect,  
Which likely seem my Ruin to effect.  
My Righteous Actions they perversely wrest,  
And by their Taunts my Anguish is increased.  
Still to invent new Slanders 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 Valley 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 grieved, my Flesh diseased,  
And dismal Woes have me their Prisoner seized.  
All Night I lie extended on a Rack,  
My Bones are tortured, 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 spurned,  
Even while alive, I seem to Ashes turned.  
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 changed his very Nature does appear.  
His mighty Hand, from which I hoped Relief,  
Is now extended to augment my Grief.  
Like Chaff I'm caught up by the Wind, and tossed,  
And this and that way driven, 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 Cries that by my Friends are sent  
To Heaven, 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 touched with Compassion yern?  
Yet (fatal Disappointment!) fore Distress  
Came, when I most expected Joy and Peace.  
While I was waiting for the cheerful Light,  
Darkness overspread me, and a dismal Night.  
My Soul in restless Agonies of Grief  
Tormented lay, and hopeless of Relief.  
So unawares was my Affliction sent,  
The sudden Stroke did quick-eyed Fear prevent.  
To solitary Seats I love to creep,  
And dark Recesses, where I groan and weep.  
To ancient, lonesome Ruins I repair,  
And mossy Heaps, in damp, unwholesome Air;  
A Desolation wild, as my Despair.  
There I so long have cried, and made my moan,  
That to the savage Beasts my Story's known.  
Well pleased, with Owls and Ravens I converse,  
And the sad Series of my Woes rehearse.  
They Scriech and Croak, and from illboding 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 Desert known,  
And friendly Satyrs take me for their own.  
My Bones quite dried by scorching Heat within,  
Start out, and break my black and withered Skin.  
I now no more my tuneful Harp employ,  
Sad Tears and Cries succeed my banished Joy.  
No longer to the Organ I rejoice,  
I've for the Mourner's changed the Singer's Voice.    

CH. XXXI.  

Yet tho' my Wants and Pains are so extreme,  
None can my Life of heinous Sin condemn.  
So far from that, I have with care suppressed  
Sin's first Conception struggling in my Breast.  
I did the Spark, as soon as kindled, tame,  
Before it blazed, 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 Heaven 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 Heaven my Head with heavy Vengeance load.  
Me in a Balance 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 slain;  
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 skulked before my Neighbour's Gate,  
Or for unchaste Embraces lay in wait:  
Then make my Wife a Captive, or by Night  
Let a proud Stranger rob me of my Right.  
For of adultery 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 complained  
That I oppressed them, or their Right detained.  
I ever gave them, when I heard their Cause,  
Against myself, th' advantage of the Laws.  
Else if I stood before the Throne on high  
Of God my Heavenly 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 men's Cries did not with me prevail,  
If e'er I caused the Widow's Hopes to fail;  
If I alone devoured Luxurious Meat,  
And did not make the hungry Orphans eat;  
Poor Orphans, who even as my Children, were  
Up from my Infancy my tender care.  
If e'er I saw poor Wretches naked lie,  
And did for want of Clothing, let them die;  
If their lean Loins warmed with my woolly Fleece,  
Did not my Bounty and Compassion bless;  
If I against an Orphan raised my hand,  
When I had power the Judges to command;  
Then let my Arm (for Punishment I call)  
Rot from the Joint, and from my Shoulder fall.  
For I the sure and swift Destruction feared,  
Which the great Judge for Rebels has prepared;  
His awful Power and Glory me deterred.  
I never placed the Strength of my Abode  
In high-raised Works, or made my Gold my God.  
Ne'er my increasing Wealth and prosperous 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 enticed away,  
Nor did I kiss my hand, and sacred Worship pay.  
If I had once the Creature thus adored,  
Abjured my Faith, renounced my Sovereign Lord,  
I should have justly felt the Judge's Sword.  
I was so little to Revenge inclined,  
I wished my Foe no mischief in my Mind.  
No secret Pleasure felt, or inward Joy,  
When God was pleased the Rebel to destroy.  
I ne'er designed him Harm, ne'er cursed his Name,  
Nor e'er insulted, when his Ruin came.  
Tho' he expressed such Cruelty and Spite,  
And so provoked me in my Servants sight;  
That they enraged, 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 traveler was my welcome Guest;  
I cheered his Heart with Wine, his Limbs with Oil and Rest▪  
I ne'er with anxious care suppressed my Sin,  
Nor, as the Hypocrite, concealed my fault within.  
I small concern for Man's Displeasure showed,  
Nor swerved from Truth to court the Multitude.  
In a just Cause I boldly did appear,  
My Silence ne'er betrayed 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 condemned, if I have erred.  
My written Process would my Pride create,  
As much as Royal Crowns, or Robes of State.  
I would as boldly to my Trial go,  
As Valiant Generals march to meet the Foe.  
If ever my unpurchased Lands complained,  
That I by Force or Fraud Possession gained:  
If ever I fewer Acres tilled,  
Ever my House with his Harvest filled,  
Or to possess his Goods my Neighbour killed:  
Let Thistles fill my Fields, instead of Wheat,  
And all my Labour and my Hope's defeat.  
Instead of Barley, let my Land produce  
Cockle of none, or Weeds of noxious use.    

CH. XXXII.  

When the three Men who pious job arraigned,  
And their high Charge in long replies maintained,  
Perceived him firmly fixed in his Defence,  
And resolute to clear his Innocence;  
They hopeless of Success from this debate,  
Let fall the Argument, and silent sat.  
Then a young Man, who as a faithful Friend,  
When the three Sages came, did job attend,  
And who attention gave, and duly weighed  
What for their Cause on either side was said,  
Only in years inferior to the rest,  
Felt a just Anger kindled in his Breast.  
His Name was Elibu, in Blood allied  
To faithful Abram by the Brother's side.  
Against good job did his Displeasure rise,  
Because in all his long and sharp replies  
He had less warmth, and less Concernment shown  
For his great Maker's Honour, than his own:  
Nor did the wise young Man less Passion feel  
Against the rash, uncharitable Zeal  
Of Iob's Accusers, who could not defend  
Their groundless Charge against their suffering Friend.  
Yet did he long discreetly moderate  
His struggling Passion, and attentive wait  
Till the grave Men had finished their Debate.  
But when he saw they had their Treasures spent,  
And none resumed their baffled Argument;  
Unable to forbear, he Silence broke,  
And Iob's severe Accusers thus bespoke.   

Your Wisdom which profoundly I revered,  
From giving my Opinion me deterred.  
Awed by your Fame, and Age, and Eloquence,  
I never yet have interposed my Sense.  
For one so young, I judged 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, convinced 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 acquired,  
Unless the Man be from above inspired.  
'Tis not the sure possession of the Great,  
Nor does it still adorn the Teacher's Seat.  
Many are in acquiring Knowledge slow,  
Nor by experience will they Wiser grow.  
Therefore Attention give, and I'll declare  
What in this great Affair, my Notions are.  
Let none condemn me, that I speak at last,  
I've interrupted no Discourses past.  
Your Arguments I've weighed, 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' almighty's Hand;  
Hoping his Terrors will your Friend subdue,  
Which your weak Arguments can never do.  
Weapons so feeble I disdain to wield,  
When to dispute with job I take the Field.  
To me he ne'er did his Discourse direct,  
Nor will I use your Words his Error to correct.  
To all around I justly may complain,  
That for Instruction I have stayed 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 Judgement, and this great Debate revive.  
While I my Lips by Violence restrain,  
My fullness gives unsufferable Pain.  
My struggling Thoughts which in my Bosom penned,  
Like new pressed Wines within the Vate, ferment,  
Will make me burst, unless they find a Vent.  
To ease myself I am compelled to speak,  
Full, working Vessels, if not opened, break.  
While I attempt your Errors to correct,  
I will not Persons, but the Cause respect.  
Quite uninstructed in the Flatterer's ways,  
I cannot soothe 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 job, this Preface I have made,  
Suffices thy Attention to persuade.  
To my discourse afford a patiented Ear,  
I am prepared to speak, if thou art so to hear.  
And be assured 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,  
Than 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 hoped, 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 fettered Feet with ponderous Chains.  
And yet his watchful Guards around me stay,  
Lest I should lose 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 job, thy rashness does appear,  
Here thy presumptuous Arrogance is clear.  
For can a Man, a Worm, a silly Wight,  
Removed 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 summoned to his Creature's Bar,  
The grounds of his Transactions to declare?  
Will e'er th' Almighty Sovereign 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 slumbering lie 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 Heavenly 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 Judgements 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.  
Even he who prospers in his youthful Pride,  
And feels within a vigorous, vital Tide;  
When e'er the Infection through his Veins is spread,  
Shall groaning lie extended on his Bed.  
The secret Poison will his Beauty blast,  
Unbrace his Sinews, and his Vigour waste.  
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 pampered with his Ease, seemed plump and fair,  
Does all his Friends (amazing Change!) surprise  
With pale, lean Cheeks, and ghastly, hollow Eyes.  
His Bones, a horrid Sight! start through his Skin,  
Which lay before in Flesh and Fat unseen.  
His throbbing Heart in Pain and Labour beats,  
And Life pursued through 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 outshine  
In sacred Knowledge, and in Gifts Divine,  
Some rare and Godlike Messenger be sent  
To teach the Sick, and bring him to repent;  
If by his Words the dying Person's Mind  
Is formed to Virtue, and to Heaven inclined;  
Then he with due Compassion touched, 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 enjoyed before.  
He in his Blood reviving Heat shall find,  
Renewed as well in Body, as in Mind.  
Again shall all his Bones be clothed with Flesh,  
That like a Child's looks beautifully fresh.  
He shall as bold and vigorous become,  
As when he flourished in his youthful Bloom:  
When he, his Veins swollen with a noble Tide,  
Did in the fullness of his Strength confide.  
His humble Prayer shall be to Heaven addressed,  
And God well-pleased, 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 reconciled, 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 sinned, and he  
For my Offence has justly punished me.  
To my desert he suited a Reward,  
But has my Life in great Compassion spared.  
He kindly interposed his Hand, to save  
A helpless Creature, sinking to the Grave.  
And more, is pleased 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 job, for this is thy concern,  
And I'll instruct thee on, if I discern  
Thou art disposed attentively to learn.  
Or if what I advance thou canst deny,  
And to the Reasons I have urged reply;  
A speedy Answer to my Reasons give,  
Before th' important Subject I revive.  
For 'tis my ardent Wish thou shouldst appear  
From every Crime, and every Error, clear.  
But if thou thinkest my Words have weight and force,  
Continue to attend to my Discourse.    

CH. XXXIV  

After a pause, job making no reply,  
The wise young Man proceeded thus: Should I  
Presume to judge alone in such a Cause,  
I should receive Contempt, and not Applause:  
Wherefore to you who Knowledge have acquired,  
Who are as Men of mighty Reach admired:  
To all the Wise among you I appeal;  
For Truth to you her Secrets will reveal.  
As by the Palate various Meats are tried,  
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 job asserts his Innocence, and says,  
" My Heart is pure, and Righteous are my Ways.  
Yet God in my Affliction takes Delight,  
And though I pray, denys to do me Right.  
Evasions I'll not use in my Defence,  
Nor shall a Lie support my Innocence.  
I must assert, I have not Justice found,  
Mine, tho' a fatal, is a causeless Wound."  
A Man, like job, say, have you ever known  
So Arrogant, and so Licentious grown?  
One, who instead of honouring his God,  
And humbly suffering his Chastising Rod,  
Justice Divine presumptuously arralgns,  
And of his Wrongs received from Heaven, complains?  
Who boldly does contemptuous Language vent  
Against th' Almighty, and his Government.  
Who joins 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 myself addressed,  
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 spared,  
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 supreme?  
Is there a Being of superior 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 crowned.  
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 Being's 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 straight 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 inferior Rulers we object  
That they in judging Law and Right neglect;  
Would they th' opprobrious Language tamely bear?  
When thus provoked, would they the Offender spare?  
How impious then is that envenomed Tongue,  
That dares th' Almighty charge with doing wrong?  
By him great Conqueror's are esteemed no more  
Than Captives, nor the Wealthy than the Poor.  
All Men before him stand on equal ground;  
There Kings and Slaves are undistinguished 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 overawed? will he to make  
Unjust Decrees, a Bribe in secret take?  
Will he the Power of mighty Monarch's dread?  
His Arm can in a moment strike 'em dead.  
He can affright whole Nations, and destroy  
Great Empires, when they settled 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 through 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 inclined.  
Therefore th' Almighty cannot through 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 Gild enlarge,  
Nor on us Crimes we ne'er committed charge;  
So when for Judgement 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 straight to Condemnation he proceeds.  
He breaks the Mighty, pulls the Tyrant down,  
And raiseth 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 heavens notorious Foes.  
The Wretches are exposed to public sight,  
Objects of Vengeance others to affright.  
Because they hated Virtue's Heavenly way,  
And would not God's most equal Laws obey:  
But crushed the Needy with Tyrannic Pride,  
Whilst humbly they to Heaven for Justice cried.  
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 Public Good, Destruction is their end.  
Lest their Examples which Contagious are,  
Should by degrees the People's 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 Sufferings, 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 through the Paths of Life my Feet conduct.  
Before my Eyes thy Heavenly Light display,  
Which may both cheer, and guide me in my way.  
Forgive my Sin, my inward Peace restore,  
Have I offended, I'll offend no more."  
Say, job, didst thou in such an humble way,  
E'er due Submission to th' Almighty pay?  
If thou this wholesome Counsel dost despise,  
Be sure thy stubborn Folly he'll chastise.  
job may the method I propose refuse,  
Which I, were I in his Distress, would choose.  
Tell therefore, job, what thy Opinions are,  
Or let Judicious Men their Sense declare,  
For I such Judges ask in this Affair.  
To me, as impious 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 tried,  
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.  
Hardened in Folly he'll his Crimes repeat,  
And Heaven with more indecent Language treat.    

CH. XXXV.  

He paused: and job not answering, Elihu  
Did thus th' important Argument pursue.  
To th' uncorrupted Judge within thy Breast  
Thy Conscience I appeal▪ will that attest  
That thou believest what thou hast boldly said,  
That job does God in Righteousness exceed?  
To any other meaning who can wrest  
These Irreligious Words by thee expressed?  
" 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 Heaven cast thy admiring Eyes,  
View the bright Orbs, and Clouds, and distant Skies.  
High as they are, they're by th' Almighty's Throne  
In height, as much as thou by them, outdone.  
Therefore, O job, the most atrocious Crime  
Thou darest commit, can never injure him.  
Nor can his perfect Happiness be less,  
Should thou grown bold, and hard in Wickedness,  
By multiplied Affronts thy Hate of God express.  
Nor can he e'er the least advantage reap,  
Shouldst thou revere him, and his Precepts keep.   

But do not thence this false Conclusion draw,  
'Tis therefore fruitless to obey his Law.  
thou and thy Sons thy Goodness will avail,  
And Heavenly 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 Suffering Neighbours mourn.  
The lamentable Cries of Realms oppressed,  
What Evils wild Injustice brings, attest.  
Crushed, and insulted by Tyrannic Might,  
To the Just God they cry aloud for Right:  
Who tho' unhurt himself, touched with the sense  
Of their sharp Sufferings, will be their Defence.  
Tho' 'tis a true, but sad Remark, that none  
Of these poor Wretches who their Fate bemoan;  
Do ever with a serious Mind inquire,  
After the God who did their Breath inspire:  
Who cannot therefore only Ease bestow,  
And Comforts give to moderate their Woe.  
But midst their greatest Sorrows can employ  
Their Mouths in Songs; and fill their Breasts with joy.  
'Tis strange, that Man has so far lost his Sight;  
Has not th' Almighty given 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 show  
Our Wants, as those unreasoning Creatures do;  
But of our past Offences do repent,  
And of his Goodness humbly confident,  
Our Supplications to our God present.   

He'll not, 'tis true, extend his Arm to save  
All that Compassion and Protection crave.  
For many to their God in Trouble cry,  
From sense of Suffering, not of Piety.  
To Pity he's inclined, 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 cries.  
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 thyself, and for his Mercy wait,  
To rescue thee from thy afflicted State.  
For 'tis because th' Almighty cannot find  
These pious Inclinations in thy Mind,  
That he this weight of Trouble on thee lays,  
And disregards thy former prosperous Days.  
Hereafter thy complaining Speeches spare,  
Which fruitless and unreasonable are;  
And which, besides thy other Wants and Woes,  
Thy want of Sense and Piety expose▪    

CH. XXXVI  

To this Discourse job gave attentive heed,  
Which made the young Instructor 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 perplexed 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 choose,  
Fit to convince the Mind, not to amuse.  
Know then, that God whose Throne surmounts the Skies,  
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 Sufferings 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 favourites 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 distressed,  
And by Affliction's Iron Rod oppressed,  
This is to make them on their Faults reflect,  
Which God is pleased in Kindness to correct▪  
Sin's growing Power and Greatness to restrain,  
Le●t in their Hearts it should Victorious reign.  
Men are hereby enlightened, and the Mind  
To hear Divine Instruction is inclined.  
They for their Faults their Sorrow will declare,  
Resolved from Virtue's Rule no more to err.  
And if their Pains produce this blessed effect,  
If thus their Faults and Follies they correct,  
If they a Zeal for Piety maintain,  
They shall their Splendour and their Power regain.  
And blest by gracious Heaven in all their ways,  
Shall pass in unmolested Peace their Days.  
But if they persevere to disobey,  
God shall the unrelenting Rebels slay.   

Enraged against them he shall take the Field,  
And Darts of Fire, and Bolts of Thunder wield.  
Then shall his Sword with horrid Sway descend,  
To cut off those, his Rod could ne'er amend.  
False Hpocrites, to Vengeance destined, lay  
Wrath up in Stores, against the wrathful Day.  
Sudden Destruction on their Heads shall fall,  
Before the Wretches can for Mercy call.  
Their Life's short Course ends at the middle Stage,  
Crushed in the Vigour of their Manly Age.  
Unthought of Ruin shall their Seats surprise,  
Like that which Reigned on Sodom from the Skies.  
But God is touched with Pity to the Poor,  
And saves the humble, who his Aid implore.  
He is to these, even in his Anger, kind,  
Afflicts the Body, to instruct the Mind.  
His Strokes are sharp, but strike out heavenly Light,  
Whereby th' afflicted learn to judge aright;  
Their Eyes are opened to discern their Sin,  
And Night without, dispels the Night within  
Hadst thou thy humble Will to God's resigned,  
And born Correction with a patiented Mind,  
When with his Rod he had thy Virtue proved,  
He would have all thy grievous Pains removed.  
Thy hideous train of Woes he had discharged,  
And thee from all thy pinching Straits enlarged.  
He would have made thy Table to abound,  
And thee with lasting Peace and Honour crowned.  
But since thy impious, rash Discourses show,  
job thinks of Heaven as Unbelievers do;  
God will assert the Honour of his Laws,  
And Judgement give according to thy Cause.  
Since than thou findest th' Almighty is displeased,  
Fear, lest his Fury should be yet increased.  
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 Sovereign Lord thou wert, possessed  
Of all the Strength and Treasure of the East.  
That Power or Wealth can serve thee, do not dream,  
Please not thyself with such an idle Scheme.  
Never thyself with such vain Hope's delight,  
Not even in musing on thy Bed by Night.  
For God whole Nations who soft Peace enjoyed,  
Sometimes with sudden Vengeance has destroyed.  
But let thy Sufferings 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, choose.   

Consider, job, God's vast and boundless Power,  
He does debase at pleasure, and restore.  
What Statesman shall invite him to his School,  
To teach th' Almighty how he ought to Rule?  
Who can the Master that directs him, name?  
What Visitor does his Proceed blame?  
Where is the Censor that presumes to say  
Here thou hast erred, 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 Fabric 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,  
Even in the Barbarous Regions far remote,  
But, if their Eyes they open, must descry  
The bright Impressions of his Majesty.  
They'll 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,  
Overwhelmed, and swallowed in the vast Abyss.  
When we approach him, his too glorious Light  
Quite dazzles, 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 ponderous 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 fixed his high Pavilion there.  
Observe too how he spreads upon the Streams,  
And on the Deep, the Sun's diffusive Beams.  
Where for the Clouds they levy fresh Supplies,  
And raise Recruits of Vapours which arise,  
Drawn from the Sea to muster in the Skies:  
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 hover Mists between  
The heavens 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 gathering Clouds arise,  
Can tell, if Storms and Tempests are designed,  
Or if sweet Showers will to the Soil be kind.    

C. XXXVII.  

When Clouds with murmuring Thunder laden roll,  
The dreadful Noise affrights my trembling Soul.  
A noise, at which pale Atheists are distressed,  
And feel a shivering Horror in their Breast.  
A noise which makes the Righteous Man revere,  
Th' Almighty's Judgements 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 show.  
This dreadful Voice which heavens high Arches shakes,  
Through all the Airy Realms its progress makes.  
Th' Almighty to the World's remotest Ends,  
His Red-winged 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 through 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 toil, and makes him know,  
That God the Seasons governs here below.  
The Beasts themselves these stormy Seasons chase  
From the wide Desert, to their lurking Place.  
They slumbering in their Dens are forced 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 charged with Seeds of Storms, and Stores of War,  
Unload conflicting Meteors in the Air.  
Then in the Northern quarter of the Skies,  
By his Direction adverse Winds arise,  
Which to remove the former are employed,  
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 dipped in Heavenly Colours, made  
Of intercepted Sunbeams mixed with Shade,  
Of tempered 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 poisoned 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 pleased his Bounty to express,  
And will with Plenty pious Nations bless:  
Then fruitful Dews descend at his Command,  
And healthful Seasons make a happy Land.   

O job, Attention give, no more object,  
To God, no more on Providence reflect.  
Rather his Counsels and his Rule adore,  
Admire his Works, and Reverence his Power.  
Canst thou declare what Orders from above  
Will come, by which these Meteors are to move?  
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 ponderous Clouds hang balanced in the Air?  
Canst thou expose such Secrets to the Light,  
The wondrous Works of Wisdom Infinite?  
Whence come the sultry 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 breathe through 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 Skies.  
But now, O job, proceed, and raise thy thought  
To Objects nobler, higher, more remote.  
Wert thou in Council with th' Almighty joined,  
When he the Model of the heavens designed?  
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 unrolled?  
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 steadiest 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, unmeasured Bliss.  
Giddy with Splendour, and excess of Day,  
They in a Maze of Glory miss their way.  
For Men alas, their Eyes so feeble are,  
Cannot the Sun's Meridian Lustre bear,  
When Northern Winds have swept and cleared the Air.  
Then sure with Terror seized, 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 Sovereign 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-winged Coursers road.  
Involved in Darkness, down the Skies 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 amazed, stood still to see the Mountain's rock.  
Approaching near the place th' Eternal spoke,  
And from an opening Cloud these awful Accents broke.   

Where art thou job, who by thy gross mistake,  
Dost false Constructions of my Actions make?  
Gird up thy Loins, 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, designed  
Before all Ages, I was pleased to rear  
The Frame of this capacious Theatre?  
Tell, if thou canst this pitch of Knowledge reach,  
Whence for my World did I Materials fetch?  
Hast thou the unexhausted Mines explored  
In Chaos Bowels, which supplies afford?  
knowst thou the Strength and Skill that I employed,  
To dig out Matter from an empty void?  
knowst thou how walking o'er the lonesome Plains,  
Of ancient Night, I found the wealthy Veins  
Of Stones and Metals, which her Womb contains.  
Canst thou declare by what stupendous Art,  
I squared, and shaped, and fitted every Part?  
How for the World I marked a proper place,  
And with what Compass, circumscribed the Space?  
How from the barren Wast I took in Ground,  
Enclosed it for a World, and fenced it round?  
On what thinkest thou are its Foundations placed?  
What Cement binds and knits the Fabric fast?  
When I to work upon the World begun,  
And of the Building laid the Corner Stone,  
knowst thou how soon the World's high Case was reered?  
How soon the wide expanded Roof appeared?  
When all the Seraphs, whose Celestial Race,  
The Morning Star in Lustre, far surpass;  
The firstborn Sons of God, my Praises sung,  
While the glad heavens with Acclamations rung.   

Who placed the rocky Doors before the Deep?  
And did in sandy Chains the Billows keep?  
When the disruption of the upper Earth  
Opened its Womb, to give the Ocean birth?  
Which I with Clouds as with a Garment wrapped,  
And misty Mantles o'er its Bosom lapped.  
Did I not form a Deep within the Land?  
Did not the watery Troops at my Command,  
March to their Station with obsequious haste,  
And find my rocky Bolts, had barred their Prison fast?  
Then said I to the Sea diffused around,  
Behold the Frontiers which thy Empire bound;  
Hither thou may'st, but may'st not further roll,  
These Bars shall thy impetuous Waves control.  
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,  
Through the vast Gulf of Air to make its way?  
Even in a moment to complete its flight,  
And gild the Earth's remotest Bounds with Light?  
Whose Heavenly Rays the Shapes of Things reveal,  
And show them fair as printed with a Seal:  
Nature that lay before with Shades oppressed,  
Is now with Light, as with a Garment, dressed.  
Light, by the Guiltless peaceably enjoyed,  
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 searched, and wandered o'er  
The watery Walks, their Wonders to explore?  
Did Death e'er meet thee at her Palace Gate?  
Led thee through all her Guards, and on thee wait  
To see her gloomy Throne, and horrid Rooms of State?  
Did she her Arms and bloody Trophys show,  
And draw her Arms 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?  
knowst 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 waste.  
Canst thou describe the silent Desert, where  
Imperial Night does her black Standard rear,  
To which her fable Troops, and mustering Shades repair.  
Whence she her gloomy Parties 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 through the Skies,  
Are thickened, wrought, and whitened till they grow  
A Heavenly Fleece, and softly drop in Snow.  
Hast thou discovered how ascending Steams,  
Thinned by the Sun's insinuating Beams,  
Are wrought and tempered and become so hard,  
That they to fall in Hailstones are prepared?  
Hast thou surveyed the Magazines on high,  
Where I repose my loud Artillery?  
Where I my Arms and Ammunition lay,  
To be employed upon the dreadful Day,  
When I against a sinful Land, declare  
Destructive Vengeance, and resistless War.  
When I my keen Etherial Weapons wield,  
And to discharge my Fury take the Field.   

How does the Light (I ask again) display  
Its radiant Wings and spread 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 metallic 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 watery Clouds encompassed round,  
Take Fire, and give imprisoned Lightning birth,  
Which tears the Air, and terrifys the Earth?  
How are the Heavenly Aqueducts contrived,  
Whence fruitful Floods are to the Earth derived?  
With which refreshed the sandy Wilderness,  
Does in its cheerful 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, show  
How drops of Rain are formed, and how the Dew.  
How is the Dew arrested in its flight,  
Congealed, and whitened in the Air by Night?  
How does it spread its Frostwork o'er the Meads,  
Oppress the Trees, and bend their hoary Heads?  
What is the nature of the Icy chain  
Which does 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 Ocean's Face,  
And Armour like his spacious back encase.  
Canst thou keep back the Spring? close opening Flowers,  
And sprouting Plants restrain, when kindly Showers  
From Heaven descend, caused by the Influence  
And Lustre which the Pleiads dispense?  
Canst thou in Winter break the Frosty Chains,  
With which Orion binds the slippery Plains?  
And then to fit it for the Farmer's use,  
Through 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?  
knowst thou th' eternal Rules decreed above  
By which the Spheres 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 choose 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?  
Managed by thee will they their Power diffuse,  
To make such Seasons here as thou shalt choose?  
Will Clouds to Orders given 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 filled his Heart?  
Didst thou inspire him with this Ray divine?  
Was it thy Bounty job, or was it mine?  
Who can the number of the Clouds enrol,  
Which spread 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 closed the cleaving Ground,  
Canst thou the Sluices fix, the Waters stop,  
And in their floating Cisterns shut them up?  
Are Forrest Beasts by thee with Food supplied,  
For hungry Lions does thy Care provide?  
If an old Lion, that can now no more  
(His vigour wasted) range the Desert over,  
Couched in his Den shall watch to seize his Prey,  
Thither dost thou th' uncautious Fawn betray?  
Or does the Raven on thy Care depend?  
Dost thou their Portion to his Young Ones send?  
Dost thou thus far thy Providence extend?    

C. XXXIX.  

knowst thou the Time when the wild Goats bring forth,  
And to the flinty Rock commit their Birth?  
knowst thou the Months which pregnant Hinds complete,  
And when to Calf 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 supplied, grow fat and thrive.  
To seek their Meat they range the Forest over,  
And to the Mother-Hind return no more.   

Who did, O job, to the wild Asse's Heart  
A noble Sense of Liberty impart?  
Bravely impatient of the Bit and Rein,  
The Beast with generous Pride, a Master does disdain.  
He does the Crib and proffered Corn refuse,  
And Thistles joined with native Freedom choose.  
From pop'lous Towns, he does 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,  
Choked with the Dust, and groaning with his Load.  
The Hills and Forests Pasturage afford,  
There he can range, and there command as Lord.  
With Freedom blest he'll not the Desert quit,  
But mocks th' ignoble Ass, that tamely does submit.   

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

With curious Colours who the Peacock died?  
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 feathered Beast appears?  
She does her Eggs to the wild Desert trust,  
And leaves her unformed Offspring in the Dust;  
Mean time forgets how soon it may be pressed  
And crushed by travelers, or a roaming Beast.  
The careless Bird does from her Young retreat,  
Expecting that the Sand's prolific Heat,  
Her huge Conceptions, should at last complete.  
When she exalts her Neck amidst the Skies,  
She does the Horse and Rider's Arms despise.   

Hast thou, O job, given to the generous Horse,  
His Confidence, his Spirit and his Force?  
The deep thick Mane that clothes 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 warrior's Arms.  
Fearless he runs on Swords, the Files invades,  
And makes his Passage through the thick Brigades.  
He mocks the Weapons which the Horsemen wield,  
The rattling 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:  
Pleased 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 murdering Robber on th' Aerial Road?  
By thee enabled does he wing his Flight,  
Through the thin Gulf, swift as a Ray of Light?  
What Feathered traveler beats the Plains of Air,  
That with the Eagles' 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.  
Towering 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 through the yielding heavens, to truss her prey.  
Then to her Young, her crooked Pounces bear  
The bloody Banquet swiftly through the Air.    

CH. XL  

Th' Almighty paused, job (speechless struck) suppressed,  
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,  
Enlightened thee, and full Conviction wrought?  
He that desires the Argument to State,  
And would with God his Providence debate,  
To those Objections must Solutions find;  
And more, must answer Questions yet behind.   

Then humbly job returned: thy heavenly Light  
Shows me a wretched miserable Wight.  
Confounded and amazed, 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 show.  
Prostrate before thy Footstool, I'll adore  
Henceforth thy Greatness, but will speak no more.   

Then did th' Almighty, from the hovering Cloud  
In which involved, 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 Loins as for another task,  
And answer Questions which I now shall ask.  
Since I, O job, did ever condescend  
To all my lowest Creatures to extend  
My Providential Care, canst thou suspect,  
That I'll Mankind, my nobler Work neglect?  
What cannot job his Innocence maintain,  
Unless unjustly he does God arraign?  
Must I then be reproached 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 heavens 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 dazzling 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 unrivalled Glories, thou mayst draw  
Men's admiration, and excite their Awe.  
Around thou 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 myself will grant,  
That independent job does no Assistance want.   

But now to humble and amaze thee more,  
To make thee in the Dust thyself abhor;  
Remark thy fellow Creature Behemoth,  
A Beast so strong, of such prodigious growth,  
That if on Flesh he feasted, what supplies  
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 pleased 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 Loins, 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 inclined.  
The vigorous Sinews of his Thighs, are bound  
Like complicated Cords, all wrapped and wound,  
And knit so fast, that to the generous Beast  
They give such Strength, as ne'er can be oppressed.  
Bones firm as Brass sustain the ponderous frame,  
Or Bars of Iron, tempered in the Flame.  
Tho' midst the various savage 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 Falchion wave.  
For Pasture he frequents the verdant Plains,  
And grassy Hills, where he a Monarch reigns;  
To which the Forest 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 jordan draw  
Down his wide Throat, to the deep Gulf 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 through his Jaw,  
And through the Flood the flouncing Monster draw?  
Hast thou a Line to hold him? canst thou guide,  
And play him with thy Rod along the Tide?  
Till spent and tired, thou canst his Strength command,  
And on the Flaggy Bank the gasping Captive Land?  
Will he, like Men overwhelmed 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 Daughter's play?  
Shall the glad Fishermen divide the Spoil,  
To recompense their hazard and their toil?  
Shall each his Portion to the Market bear,  
And to the Merchant sell for Gold his Share?  
Canst thou his Head with bearded Spears divide,  
Or pierce the scaly Armour of his side?  
Suppose that thou hast Courage to assail  
The furious Beast, would Spears or Darts prevail?  
Shouldst thou with Life escape, his dreadful Rage  
Thou wouldst remember, and no more engage.  
The Hopes the bravest Warriors entertain,  
Of Conquering him, presumptuous are and vain.  
Would not the boldest Mortal, in despite  
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 though 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 clothes his Back?  
The most intrepid Chief, that dares advance  
Against the brandished Sword, and threatening Lance,  
With Consternation seized, in haste withdraws,  
Far from the reach of his expanded Jaws.  
Then canst thou job, of me be not afraid,  
Who the vast Beast, and all his Terrors made?  
Whoever 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 power  
Of my stupendous Creature, named before.  
He that his Mouth dares open, would disclose  
The bloody Throne of Death, long murdering Rows  
Of Spearlike Teeth, which fixed 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 glittering Dart deride.  
They're all so firmly fixed, so closely joined,  
That Air itself can not admission find.  
In strict embraces they together grow,  
Embraces that can ne'er Division know.  
Whenever he Sneezes, from his Nostrils flies  
A flash, like Lightning darting through the Skies.  
The lustre of his Eyes the Meads adorn,  
Bright as the Saffron Eyelids of the Morn.  
His reeking Breath breaks from his hollow Throat,  
As from a Forge or Cauldron, boiling hot.  
If hardy Swains his fury dare provoke,  
His raging Nostrils belch out Clouds of Smoke.  
From his wide Mouth, mingled with choking 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 Rear,  
Amazement, Sorrow, Woe and shivering 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 expressed.  
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 wields,  
His Scales are all impenetrable Shields;  
His hardened Skin ne'er to the Javelin yields.  
Weapons of Iron made of every kind,  
Which the destructive Wit of Man can find;  
He values as the Bulrush by the Flood,  
And those of Brass, as Spears of rotten Wood  
Thick Showers of Arrows singing through 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 fling.  
Against him when the clamorous Troops advance,  
He smiles at Spears, and mocks the threatening Lance.  
The sharpest Weapons from his Back recoil,  
And with their Shivers spread the miry Soil.  
When through the Deep he rolls from side to side,  
And tumbles in the Bottom of the Tide;  
He shakes the Banks, and troubles all the Waves,  
Like Tempests loosed from Subterranean Caves.  
His motion works, and beats the Oazy Mud,  
And with its Slime incorporates the Flood;  
That all th' encumbered, thick, fermenting Stream,  
Does one vast Pot of boiling Ointment seem.  
Whenever 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 sudden 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 Valley Monarch reigns.  
The strongest Creatures his dread Presence fear,  
Whom he in pastime can in pieces tear.    

CH. XLII.  

These awful words, in which so brightly shine  
Wisdom and Power, and Majesty Divine;  
Did job awaken, and his Grief renew,  
Setting his Errors fully in his View:  
Who now a just and free Confession made,  
Humbly submitted to his God, and said:  
Thy Wisdom all thy Creatures reach transcends,  
Far as thy Will thy Power its Sphere extends.  
All thy Designs thou wilt at last complete,  
No Force or Art can thy Wise Ends defeat.  
As thou art pleased to crush me, thou hast Power,  
If thou wert pleased, my Substance to restore.  
Convinced by thy Reproofs, I freely own,  
That I have rash, audacious Folly shown;  
Venturing with Reason's short and treacherous Line,  
To sound the Depths of Providence Divine.  
Searching the secret Counsels of thy Breast,  
I have presumptuous Forwardness expressed.  
My rash and unconsidered 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 adored,  
But not by vain and curious Heads explored.  
O, let thy Anger be appeased, 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 Heavenly Light  
Dispel the hovering 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 revealed.  
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 wished 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 drowned in Tears my Errors I lament.  
I grieve that grown impatient of thy Rod,  
I justified myself against my God.   

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

These three wise Friends, of Wrath Divine afraid,  
Their due Submission to th' Almighty made,  
And job to be their Intercessor prayed.  
His humble Prayer th' Almighty did receive,  
And these Offenders for his sake forgive.  
While job this Duty for his Friends discharged,  
God from his straits the Patiented Man enlarged.  
He now began that Vigour to restore,  
And all the Blessings he enjoyed before.  
Nor did he cease his Bounty to repeat,  
Till he had made him twice as rich and great.  
Then all his Friends and Kindred, who as Foes  
Had job deserted in his Straits and Woes,  
Of his deliverance when they heard the Fame,  
To show their Joy, in Throngs around him came.  
And when they first his Losses had condoled,  
And for his Sufferings past their Sorrow told;  
They their Congratulations did express,  
For this his unexpected Happiness.  
Each in his Hand did for a Present bear,  
Or Coin, or golden Pendant for the Ear.  
Thus God chastised him with a kind intent,  
And made him Poor, his Riches to augment.  
The Herds and Woolly Flocks he once possessed,  
Now to a double number were increased.  
His fruitful Wife his Offspring to restore,  
seven goodly Sons, and three fair Daughters bore.  
One was jemima, one Kesia named,  
The third was Kerenhappuch, Virgins famed  
For charming Beauty, which the Sisters blest  
Beyond the fairest Daughters of the East.  
job did not, as the Custom was to do,  
These with small Portions of his Goods endow.  
But being with his Sons Coheirs declared,  
With them his vast Inheritance they shared.  
God after this so happy turn of Fate,  
Increased his Years, as much as his Estate.  
Of Years an Hundred, and twice Twenty more,  
To those were added, which he lived before.  
So the Good Man his numerous Progeny,  
Did to the fourth Succession live to see.  
Then ripe with Hoary Age, and fully pleased,  
He died, or rather, he from Living ceased.     

THE SONGS of Moses, Deborah, etc. WITH SOME Select Psalms and Chapters of Isaiah, AND THE Third Chapter of Habakkuk, paraphrased.  
By Sir Richard Blackmore, Kt. M. D.   

THE Song of MOSES paraphrased. EXODUS, Chap. XV.  

YOur Shouts to Heaven, ye Sons of jacob raise,  
And celebrate in Songs of Praise  
The glorious Triumphs of Iehovah's Power,  
Applaud th' Almighty Conqueror.  
Let all the wide stretched 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 disclosed the Water's hideous Womb,  
And did in Crystal Graves their Troops entomb.  
They sunk and perished in the Tide,  
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 Warrior, 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 derived 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 released,  
And our galled Shoulders of their Burdens eased.  
He brought us from th' inhospitable Land,  
And rescued us from Pharoah's savage hand.  
He terribly chastised these Pagan Powers;  
And as this Lord of Hosts was ours,  
He was our Father's All-sufficient God;  
We therefore will prepare him an Abode:  
We will an Altar and a Temple rear,  
A sacred Place of Praise and Prayer,  
There we'll adore our great Deliverer.   

Th' Eternal does in Arms excel;  
What Power can his projected Darts repel?  
Who can against his Thunder stand,  
Or who elude his never-erring Hand?  
Let him but wield his dreadful Blade  
Of malleable lightning made,  
Let him advance into the Field,  
And lift on high his Adamantine Shield,  
Whose brighter Lustre drowns the waning Sun,  
As much as that the sickening 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 stayed, would not with Terror die.   

He sharply has rebuked th' Egyptian's Pride,  
Who his Almighty Arm defied.  
Against their mighty Host he did prepare  
An unexpected Watery War.  
He on the Deep his Terrors did display,  
And drew his rolling Legions in Array:  
He bade the Waves in Martial Order flow,  
And made his fluid Squadrons charge the Foe.   

Th' amazed Egyptians fled for fear,  
While roaring Surges hung upon their Rear:  
The foaming Files overtake them in the Chase,  
And overwhelmed the cruel Race.  
Bows, Banners, Spears, an unexampled Wreck,  
Lay floating on the Ocean's back.  
While Chariots, Horse and Horsemen killed,  
The Seas inferior Chambers filled.  
The mighty Host the Caves beneath oppressed,  
And the low horrors of the Deep increased.  
Of such a wealthy Spoil the Sea before  
Ne'er robbed the Land, while penned within the Shore.  
While no Detachment of its Waves it made,  
The Frontier Regions to invade,  
No Watery Parties sent abroad  
To sweep the neighbouring Fields, and plunder M●ns Abode.   

High heaps of Swords and Bucklers stood  
Like Rocks of polished Iron in the Flood.  
The Fish made haste to seize their Prey,  
But when they saw the shining Shields display  
Through 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 appeased their Thirst of Blood.  
Glorious in Power, great Lord of Hosts,  
Is thy right hand which such Achievements 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.   

Arrayed with fearful Glory, girt with Might,  
Thou didst thy People's Battles fight.  
Thou hast o'erthrown the impious Foes,  
Who against thee and Israel risen;  
They were in Storms of Fury on them poured,  
As Stubble is by raging Flames devoured.   

Commanded by thy Breath th' obsequious Main  
Stood still, and gathered up its flowing Train.  
Th' Almighty did the Sea divide,  
And as he rends the Hills, he split the cleaving Tide.  
Benumbed with fear the Waves erected stood,  
Overlooking all the distant Flood.  
Mountains of Craggy Billows did arise,  
And Rocks of stiffened Water reached the Skies.  
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,  
Moved slothfully a while, and then quite stopped their course.   

Upon their March they insolently cried,  
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 wield the Spear, and draw the Sword,  
And root this Nation out by all abhorred.  
We'll bathe the Desert 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 oppressed,  
While we in Vengeance reign, and on Destruction feast.   

As thus the Gulf the proud Egyptians crossed,  
And with loud threats pursued our trembling Host,  
Thou with thy powerful Wind didst blow,  
And straight the thawing Heaps began to flow.  
The Waves that stood as Bulwarks were dissolved,  
And Pharoah's Chariots and his Troops involved.  
They from the roaring Deluge would have fled,  
But to the bottom sank as Led.   

Among the Gods of all the Nations round,  
Equal to thee is any found?  
Any that can with Rival Glory shine,  
And show as perfect Holiness as thine?  
When we thy various Triumphs sing,  
And great Achievements 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 Enemy's affright,  
But grateful Admiration in our Breasts excite.   

When thou extendest o'er the Tide  
Thy hand, that does all Nature guide,  
The conscious Waves the high Command obeyed,  
Like melting heaps of Snow they flowed apace,  
Marching with fury on, they disarrayed,  
Then swallowed 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 promised Land,  
Thou with thy mighty outstretched hand  
Shalt rescued Israel guide,  
Where with thy favour blest they shall in Peace abide.   

Fame shall together with these Tidings spread  
Through 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 astonished stand,  
Edom's proud Potentates shall be afraid,  
And Moab's mighty Men dismayed.  
The dreadful News shall make pale Tyrants start,  
And melt within his Breast the stoutest warrior's Heart.   

The Lords of Canaan shall their fears express,  
And all their People their distress.  
The Terrors of thy Conquering 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 Canaan's happy Land shall safely be conveyed.   

Thither thou'lt lead the favoured Race,  
And give them safe Possession of the Place;  
Thou wilt fulfil thy great design,  
By planting there these Colonies Divine,  
Their happy Dwellings shall be spread,  
Around Moriah's lofty head,  
On which thy sacred Dome shall stand,  
Diffusing pious Awe through all the Land.   

The Lord shall rule with Power and Glory crowned,  
No Time or Space shall e'er his Empire bound.  
Immortal Pillars his sixth 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 entered with his Troops the opening Sea,  
And hoped to pass the dreadful Defile;  
But God who had his way beset,  
Drew o'er the Host his watery Net;  
To finish this miraculous Campaign,  
He loosed the Bonds that did the Waves restrain;  
Straight the congested Billows tumbled down,  
And liquid Ruins did the Tyrant drown:  
His Chariots and his Horse were swept away,  
Ingulph'd, and swallowed by th' o'erwhelming Sea.  
But the firm Waters did erected stand,  
On either hand,  
And left dry ground between till Israel gained the Land.    

THE Song of DEBORAH paraphrased. JUDGES, Chap. V.  

LET the Victorious Tribes of Israel sing,  
Let their loud Shouts through heavens 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 crowned,  
And spread the fear of Israel's Name around.  
He to avenge us on our Foes,  
Has crushed the haughty Powers that did our Arms oppose.  
Our Troops from Heaven with noble Zeal inspired,  
The glorious Hazards of the Field desired.  
God fired 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 passed the Field,  
By th' Idumean Farmer tilled,  
What marks of Greatness did his March attend?  
What Power 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 deluged all his way.  
From his refulgent Sword, and radiant Shield,  
Flushes of rapid Splendour 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' astonished Earth down to its Centre shook.  
Contending Tempests bellowed 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 oppressed,  
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 rend,  
Did yield to struggling Vapours vent,  
And suffocated Nature to relieve,  
To ambient Air admission give.  
heavens Crystal Battlements to pieces dashed,  
In Storms of Hail were downward hurled;  
Loud Thunder roared, red Lightning flashed,  
And universal Uproar filled the World.  
Torrents of Water, Floods of Flame  
From Heaven in fight Ruins came.  
At once the Hills that to the Clouds aspire,  
Were washed with Rain, and scorched with Fire.  
The Waters down the Mountains Sides were poured,  
And o'er the Vale th' unbridled Deluge roared.  
Canaan's proud Hills with this affright  
Shook to their Base, and well they might;  
For Sinai rocked and quaked, when God  
Made on its Brow his terrible Abode.   

In Shamgar's and in Iael's days,  
Robbers and Thiefs infested all the ways.  
These Sons of Violence pursued their Prey  
On public Roads in open day.  
Poor Trav'llers to escape the cruel hands  
Of these Licentious, lawless Bands,  
They passed through Ways and Paths unknown,  
Yet still in fear, from Town to Town.  
The trembling People by these Spoilers scared,  
To Towns of Strength in Troops repaired.  
They left their old Abodes to be possessed  
By Owls and Bats, and every ravening Beast:  
Until their fruitful Land at last,  
Became a wild Inhospitable Waste.   

O Israel, these were thy sad Wants and Woes,  
These thy Oppressions when I Deb'rah risen;  
When I arose a Mother to restore  
Thy former Peace, and Wealth, and Power.  
Till than 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 carved in Wood, or cut in Stone.   

Heaven thus provoked, excited Foes,  
Who full of rage against our Cities' rose.  
confederate Kingdom's War with Israel waged,  
And horrid Slaughter in our Bowels raged:  
And well it might, for we were so disarmed,  
That when the Foe our Gates alarmed,  
Did there a single Shield or Spear,  
Midst forty Thousand Israelites appear?  
O Israel then, I risen 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 generously their Lives expose.  
Give them their due Applause, but chief bless  
The God, who gave them Courage and Success.   

Ye Lords in Courts of Judgement who preside,  
And through the Streets in awful State,  
With numerous Trains attended ride,  
Th' Almighty's wondrous Work relate.  
Ye People who can leave your safe Abodes,  
And travel now secure in Public Roads;  
You that do now in Joy and Peace,  
Your Figtrees 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 Conquering 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 through the cleaving Throng,  
Thy Captives lead in clanking Chains,  
All their vast Army's small Rematns.  
Thou who the dreadful Battle didst display  
On that decisive, glorious Day,  
Now draw thy Pomp and Triumph in Array.   

Iacob's Remains by Heaven with Empire crowned  
Have laid their Yoke on Canaan's Kings around.  
Even me the Lord has raised 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  
Advanced, and joined 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 wield the Sword laid down the Pen.  
The Princes and the Lords of Issachar?  
Despising Danger, undertook the War.  
With Zeal they followed me their Head,  
And Barak to the Field their valiant Squadrons led.   

Ah Reuben, how were we dismayed,  
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'rens armed with Sword and Shield,  
For Liberty advanced into the Field,  
Why didst thou sullen in thy Tents abide,  
As if in Blood and Interest not Allied?  
Couldst thou to Arms thy Shepherd's Crook prefer,  
And rather choose 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 jopran stayed,  
And of the haughty Foe afraid,  
Refused 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,  
Stayed 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 Warriors 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 stored,  
And all the horrid shapes of danger did afford:  
Where Death triumphant in the Battle stood,  
Besmeared with Brains, and Dust, and Blood.   

Great Potentates of formidable Fame,  
Captains and Kings against us came;  
Their confluent Troops from every Coast,  
Composed a vast overflowing Host.  
We saw th' advancing Deluge from afar,  
And all the mustering Tides of complicated War.  
They stopped, 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 heavens high Turrets throw,  
And charged with fatal influence the Foe.  
They to our Aid their glittering Forces brought  
And against Sisera in their Courses fought.   

O Kishon, than thy troubled Tide  
Was choked with Carcases, with Crimson died.  
Swords, Helmets, Shields rolled all beneath,  
And of the lighter Instruments of Death  
Spears, Arrows, Darts, a floating Wood  
Overspread the surface of thy Flood.  
Thy current swept their Troops away,  
And with their mighty Spoils enriched the wondering Sea.  
Thy banks, and all the Vale about,  
Were spread with marks of ignominious rout.  
Chariots overturned, and scattered Shields,  
And broken Hoofs deformed the Fields:  
Hoofs torn, and on the stony places cast,  
O'er which the flying Horsemen past.   

Accursed th' Almighty's Angel cried,  
Accursed be Meroz who her help denied.  
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 through our Cities' ring  
Of Heber's Wife, above the rest  
Of Womankind may she be blest.  
Great Sis'ra choked with heat and dust;  
Demanded Water from the Spring;  
She to allay the general's thirst,  
Did Milk and Cream in costly Vessels bring.  
She to the Nail the left applied,  
And with her right hand did the Hammer guid●.  
And as the mighty Sisera  
Stretched on the Pavement sleeping lay,  
Th' undaunted Woman with a noble blow,  
Drove in the Nail, and pierced his Temples thro'.  
Amazed, not wakened 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 bowed and fell, and gasping lay,  
Quivered and groaned his Life away.  
She drew his Sword, and with a Manly stroke,  
The Warriors Head from off his Shoulders took.   

His Mother looking through her Window said,  
Why is his Triumph thus delayed?  
Why does his lingering Chariot stay?  
Why roll his Wheels so slowly on the way?  
Her Maids, nay, she herself replied,  
The Conqueror's stay their Booty to divide.  
The distribution made, each Chief can show  
A Damsel for his share, or two.  
But Sis'ra's Prey outshines the rest,  
His is a particoloured 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 jael lay.  
Lord let his Fate attend thine Enemy's,  
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 refreshed, does in his Vigour rise,  
Eager to run  
All the blue Stages of the spacious Skies.    

David's Lamentation, Occasioned by the Death of Saul and jonathan. 1 SAMUEL, Chap. I.  

WHen jonathan and Saul expiring lay,  
On the cursed Hills of Gilb●a,  
(Ah black, inglorious, fatal Day!)  
'Twas then, unhappy Israel,  
Thy Beauty, Strength and Glory fell.  
How were thy mighty Warriors slain?  
What a red Deluge bathed the reeking Plain?  
How were thy Sons to Conquest long inur'd,  
How were thy Valiant Chiefs devoured  
By the Philistine's unrelenting Sword?  
How terrible, how sudden was their Fate?  
These Pillars fallen that propped 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 carved 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,  
Spread with your Monarch's Ignominious Spoils,  
May you the marks of heavens displeasure bear;  
Be you no more the Farmer's care:  
Let no kind Cloud hereafter, pour  
On your parched Heads one fruitful Shower:  
May the relentless, hardened Sky,  
No Rain by Day, or Dew by Night supply  
To ease your Thirst, and gaping clefts cement;  
With Fire be blasted, and with Thunder rend.  
Let not a blade of Grass or Corn,  
Nor one green Tree your Heads adorn.  
By Heaven accursed, to future Ages stand  
Uncultivated Heaps of barren Sand.  
For vanquished Israel o'er these Mountains fled,  
There with ignoble Rout the Fields were spread,  
There lay our Weapons mingled with our Dead▪  
There scattered 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 mixed with vulgar Corpse, exposed in open Air.   

O Saul, O jonathan, ye mighty Dead,  
You ne'er before in Battle fled.  
The Arrows from the Son's unerring Bow,  
Have pierced ten thousand valiant Warriors through.  
The Father's unresisted Sword,  
Like raging Fires around devoured:  
By no Opposer e'er withstood,  
The crimson Conqueror reeked in Hostile Blood.  
Till now, you ever used to come.  
Laden with Spoils and Trophys home.  
Your Chariots through the confluent, gazing Throng,  
Used in slow State to roll along:  
While crowds of Captive Princes chained,  
Wiping their Brows with dust and sweat distained,  
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 increased the Triumph of the Day.  
Thus victory used to crown  
The mighty Father, and the valiant Son.  
Now vanquished, 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 failed to move  
The People's universal Love,  
Than their famed Courage did their Neighbour's fear.  
They lived in strongest bonds of Love combined,  
And as they lived, so they together died;  
So close was their Affection joined,  
That Death itself could not the knot divide.  
For tho' they fell oppressed with Pagan Power,  
Their Love still triumphed o'er the Conqueror.  
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 engaged,  
Like Lions when provoked, they through the Battle raged.   

O Daughters of jerusalem express,  
A Sorrow worthy of our vast distress.  
Unite your Groans and mournful Cries,  
Unite your Tears and Agonies.  
Apply yourselves to weeping day and night,  
Raptures of Grief be your Delight.  
Through every Street lamenting go,  
Strains of unruly Anguish show,  
And howling Tempest's raise of wild despairing Woe.  
too exquisite Affliction can't be shown,  
Since Saul is fallen from his Imperial Throne.  
Saul lies upon the Mountains dead,  
Who with abundance Israel fed:  
Who gave you Garments glorious to behold,  
Scarlet adorned with Needlework and Gold.  
Who hung rich Bracelets on your Arms,  
And with bright Gems increased your native Charms.  
Whose Arms enriched your Towns with precious Spoil,  
And filled with Foreign Wealth Judea's happy Soil.   

How did the mighty Prince, and all  
His valiant Chiefs in Battle fall!  
How are the Hills with Slaughter spread!  
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!  
Through 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 vanquished, be despised  
By all the Nations of th' Uncircumcised?   

Oh jonathan, 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 generous 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 sudden, thy disastrous 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 uncontrolled, unmerciful distress:  
For if my Grief does not outrageous grow,  
'Tis unbecoming my unmeasured Woe,  
Nothing's enough that's less than all that Love can show.    

THE Second PSALM paraphrased.  

WHat means this mighty Uproar? whence arise  
This great Commotion, these tumultuous Cries?  
What has alarmed 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.  
confederate Princes wicked Friendship make,  
And in their Anger desperate Counsels 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 Favourite 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 enthroned 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 Favourite I'll enthrone,  
And fix upon his Head th' Imperial Crown.  
Submissive States his Empire shall obey,  
And at his Footstool Kings their Sceptres lay.  
He shall Tyrannic Cruelty correct,  
And tenderly his Subject's Rights protect.  
He shall assert Divine Religion's Cause,  
heavens sacred interests manage with Applause,  
And rule the World with just and equal Laws.  
To execute his high important Charge,  
My Viceroy I invest with Power at large:  
Vast Power I give him, but I give him none,  
But what is mixed with Mercy like my own.  
No other Power, 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 entitled 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 supreme command▪  
Thou shalt of all the Regions be possessed,  
From the Sun's rising to the adverse West.  
Only the limits which the World surround,  
Thy Universal Monarchy shall bond.  
Armed with a Rod of Iron thou shalt reign  
O'er proud Oppressors, and their Rage restrain.  
Thou shalt in pieces dash, like Potter's 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 lie 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 desperate 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 paraphrased.  

MY grateful Soul th' Almighty's Name adore;  
Great is his Being, great his Works of Power  
Immortal Honours, Majesty, Renown,  
And Dignity Divine his Temple's crown.  
His Robe of State is wrought with Light re●in'd;  
An endless Train of Lustre flows behind.  
His Throne's of massy, burnished Glory made,  
With Heavenly 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 ravished Sight,  
Deluged in vast ineffable Delight.   

He as a Tent the heavens expansion reers,  
And as a Curtain stretches out the Spheres.  
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 through all the spacious Fields of Air.  
He harnasses the manag ' Winds, and flies  
On their swift Wings to visit all the Skies.  
The various Meteors of the Air above  
Wait his Commands, and by his Order move.  
Tempests and Windy Vapours, raised 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 senseless Creatures such Obedience show  
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 ponderous heap in fluid Air,  
And made its weight it's own Supporter there.  
Then he the Waters o'er its Bosom rolled;  
And liquid Garments did the Earth enfold.  
The Rocks and Hills concealed in Billows stood,  
And o'er the Mountain's tops the Deluge raised its Flood.  
God's great Command chastised the Water's Pride,  
He bade the Flood call down its towering Tide,  
And straight the ebbing Deluge did subside.  
Th' Almighty formed a vast capacious Deep,  
Where he his Watery 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,  
Entrenched 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 undiscerned, and up the Mountains creep:  
Whence gushing out in Springs they downward flow.  
And through the flowery 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 clothe the Meads with Grass,  
Bids all his Rivers through the Vallies pass.  
Kindly their course th' indented Banks restrain,  
Kindly the Hills retard their gliding train.  
For thus the lingering Streams at leisure flow,  
And greater Riches on the Fields bestow.  
Beasts tame and savage to the River's brink,  
Come from the Fields and Wilderness to drink.  
Thither the feathered 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 neighbouring Wood,  
The painted Heralds in melodious Lays,  
Proclaim their gracious Benefactor's Praise.   

He from his high Aerial Chambers, where  
Th' Almighty Chemist does his Works prepare,  
Digests his Lightnings, and distils his Rain,  
Pours down his Waters on the thirsty Plain.  
He sends refreshing Showers to cheer the Hills,  
And with his Bounty all the Valley fills;  
The Earth made fruitful with his Heavenly drops,  
With a rich Harvest crowns the Farmer's Hopes.  
He does the Fields his open Table spread,  
Where all the Beasts with grassy Meat are fed.  
He Plants, for Food and Physic does produce  
Through all the Earth, for Man his Viceroy's use.  
He pours from Heaven 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 Oil it does anointed shine,  
With Oil, another noble Gift Divine.  
He fills the teeming Glebe with Crops of Corn,  
Which cloth the Vallies, 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 Heaven distilled,  
In which the Storks their Airy Houses build.  
The Mountains reered their Heads at his Command,  
And Pillars to his Praise erected stand:  
In these, and in the Rocks, the savage Kind,  
From the pursuer's Arms safe Refuge find.   

He formed the Moon the Seasons to divide,  
And gave it Empire o'er the Ocean's tide.  
The Sun he burnished, till its Orb became  
A Spring of Light, and undecaying Flame.  
Which knows the Stages of its heavenly way,  
And does by turns roll up, by turns display  
The wide and bright expansion of the Day.  
'Tis God who made the Day, that makes the Night,  
He in the Air to suffocate the Light,  
Does from his opened 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 bitten 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 ravening Lions from the Woods retreat,  
Roar out to Heaven, 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 oppressed,  
Stretch out their weary Limbs, and take their rest.  
But Man goes forth to labour in the Morn,  
When the tired Lion does from his return.   

God's Works of Power our Wonder, and his Praise  
Through all the World his Works of Goodness raise.  
To form the Sea he drew his Compass round,  
And with the mark it left described the ground:  
Then dug th' unfathomed Hollow, which the Main  
And all the Floods and Rivers might contain.  
So populous these watery Regions are,  
That Nations numberless inhabit there.  
Mute Nations that are here supplied with Food,  
Whose Finny Wings divide the crystal Flood.  
Here 'tis the Ships along the yielding Tide,  
Before the Wind upon their Bells glide.  
The Whale, the Sovereign that the Sea controls,  
Here takes his Pleasure, and in Pastime rolls.  
He plays, and tumbles in his Watery 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' astonished Skies.  
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 hid in Rocks,  
All Passengers that beat th' Etherial Road  
With feathered Wings, wait for their Meat from God.  
At his expense they eat, by various ways  
He for his numerous Family purveys.  
His opened Hand dispenses fresh supplies,  
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 through the Earth does quick'ning Power diffuse,  
And Heat, which fresh Productions there produce.  
Since on the Earth th' Almighty does dispense  
Th' unnumbered Blessings of his Providence,  
And with his Favours has all Nature crowned,  
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 fixed, and in their fright  
Of all their weight they strip themselves for flight.  
The Rocks from off their Marble Pillars break,  
And which they used to give, a Refuge seek.  
The Woods with Terror winged 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 obdurate Sinners, who refuse  
To give him Glory, and his Gifts abuse,  
Be from the Earth, as they deserve, destroyed,  
While, thou my Soul, art in his Praise employed.    

THE CXIVth PSALM paraphrased.  

WHen God a thousand Miracles had wrought,  
The favourite Tribes deliverance to promote,  
And marching on in Triumph at their head,  
Their Host to promised Canaan led;  
Then, jacob, was thy rescued Race,  
Distinguished 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 blessed abode.  
They were from Heaven instructed to adore  
Their God, and with Celestial Light,  
Canaan was blest, as Goshen was before,  
While all their Neighbours lay involved in Night.  
God the Foundations of their Empire laid,  
The Model of their Constitution made:  
He on their Throne their King in Person sat,  
And ruled with equal Laws the Sacred State.   

For this blessed purpose Iacob's Seed  
Was from Egyptian Bondage freed,  
When God to do this wondrous work was pleased,  
Great Consternation Nature seized.  
The restif Floods refused to flow,  
Panting with Fear the Winds could find no Breath to blow.  
Th' astonished Sea did motionless become,  
Horror its Waters did benumb.  
The briny Waves that reered themselves to see  
Th' Almighty's Judgements, and his Majesty,  
With Terror crystalized began to halt,  
Then Pillars grew, and Rocks of Salt.   

jordan as soon as this great Deed it saw,  
Struck with a reverential Aw  
Started, and with Precipitation fled,  
In haste the thronging Waves ran backward to their Head.   

Vast Hills were moved 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 astonished 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 ailed thee, O thou troubled Sea,  
That thou with all thy watery Troops didst flee?  
What ailed thee, jordan? 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 even backward flow, to hid,  
Within thy Fountain's Head thy refluent Tide.   

What did the lofty Mountains all?  
What Pangs of Fear did all the Hills assail  
That they their Station could not keep,  
But scared with danger run, like timorous scattered 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 reverence should its place forsake.  
For he is Nature's sovereign 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 PSALMS paraphrased.  

YE bright, Immortal Colonies,  
That People all the Regions of the Skies,  
That in your blissful Seats above  
Inhabit Glory, dwell in Light and Love:  
Ye mighty Generals, who command  
Th' Almighty's Host, ye Ministers that stand  
In his blessed Presence to receive  
What Orders he is pleased to give:  
Ye Guards and Household Servants who resort  
To pay attendance at his Court:  
Ye Saints and Seraphs who astonished see  
His Greatness, and essential Majesty:  
Tune your Celestial Harps, and sing  
The Triumphs of th' Eternal King.  
All ye his Heavenly Hosts applaud  
In long continued 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, echoing Spheres 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  
Through all the listening World th' Eternal's Fame.  
From every Quarter all ye Winds arise,  
On whose swift Wings th' Almighty flies,  
When he his Progress makes into th' inferior Skies.  
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 heavens Magazines with fresh Supplies,  
And for the Meteors new Materials bring,  
As you ascend to Heaven, th' Eternal's Praises sing.  
Ye Clouds that by pursuing Winds are driven,  
Pour with your Rain your Praises forth,  
Let these ascend, as high as Heaven,  
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 sovereign Lord,  
Be by the Deep, and all the Floods adored.  
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 join to celebrate his Praise.  
Ye Dragons, Wolves, and all ye savage Kind  
On echoing Hills in Consort joined,  
To him your Adoration pay,  
Whose Bounty in the Desert finds you Prey.  
Do you your Gratitude express,  
And make his Praises ring through all the Wilderness.  
Ye Pines and Cedars tune yourselves 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 borrowed Sceptres lay,  
Applaud the Spring of all Imperial Power,  
You be 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 blessed design,  
To praise him let them all combine,  
And make the World one Universal Quire.    

THE Song of MOSES paraphrased. DEUT. Chap. 32.  

ATtend, OH heavens, and you Empyreal Spheres  
Did you possess as many listening Ears,  
As Starry Eyes, all, as you roll along,  
Should be employed to hear my following Song.  
To my important words a while attend,  
And back my Notes in tuneful Echoes 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 hushed, 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 distil as Dew, and drop as Rain,  
That in their grassy Garments clothes the Hills,  
And with rich Fruits the smiling Valley 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 Power and Glory due.   

God is a Rock unchanged 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 jacob, be it known  
On your own heads you've pulled Destruction down.  
Your black Offences have incensed your God,  
And forced his hand to take his vengeful Rod.  
Say not that yours, the Faults of Children are,  
Which a kind Father is induced 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 inveterate Foes.  
Th' Almighty's Goodness do you thus despise,  
Ah foolish Generation and unwise!  
Your Great Deliverer do you thus requite?  
His Power and Mercy thus perversely slight?  
You by a vast expense of Wonders bought,  
He from your Bondage back from Egypt brought.  
He then advanced 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 Power and Plenty crown.  
Consult our ancient Fathers, to the source  
Of our recorded Story have recourse:  
You'll find when God did with a liberal 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 fenced this Enclosure round,  
And blest with his Abode the sacred Ground.  
To Wealth and Power he Israel did advance,  
And with his Gifts enriched his own Inheritance.   

To seek out jacob he the Desert past,  
And found him in a lonesome yelling Waste,  
With pain and want, and servile Chains oppressed,  
A Prey to every fierce Egyptian Beast.  
God with Compassion moved to such distress,  
Led the lost Stranger through the Wilderness.  
He shielded him with his resistless Might,  
And to direct him to proceed aright,  
He on his Mind diffused his Heavenly 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 flies,  
Spreads out her Wings, and flutters in the Skies.  
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 through parting Waves prepare.  
He through the pathless Desert was their guide,  
And when the Tribes for Egypt's Onions cried,  
He in the Wilderness his Table spread,  
And in his Airy Ovens baked 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 vanquished Heathen Lords pursued,  
Reduced their Towns, and their strong Forts subdued,  
That they the fruitful Region might enjoy,  
And with delights their ravished Senses cloy.  
A Soil which Nature's choicest Favours crown,  
With Floods of Milk and Honey overflown:  
Hony, that runs in yellow, fragrant Seas,  
From out the holes of Rocks and hollow Trees.  
Bathed in their Oil their cheerful Faces shone,  
And with the grabe's rich blood they warmed their own.  
And yet the Tribes by gracious Heaven carest,  
Revered abroad, at home with Plenty blest,  
Grew fat and vicious, like a pampered Beast.  
They all the Bounds of grateful Duty broke,  
Spurned at their Lord, and kicked against his Yoke.  
Strange Gods inveigled their perfidious Heart  
The Worship of th' Almighty to desert;  
Tho' he had unexampled Kindness shown,  
And had espoused their interests, as his own.  
Then in his Breast fierce Jealousy began,  
The Rage of God, as well as 'tis 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.  
God's the productions of fantastic Fear,  
Not Gods above, but manufactured here.   

But their Celestial Father they forgot,  
Who their unthankful Tribes from Egypt brought.  
Who as a Rock did them in danger hid,  
Remove their Fears, and for their Wants provide.  
Who gave them Riches with a bounteous Hand,  
Raised them to Honour, and to wide Command.  
Such their Perverseness 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 hid myself from this unfaithful Race.  
Then they, and all the Nations round shall see  
The sad Event of their Apostasy.  
From my Protection and my Favour cast,  
Which they have long abused, they shall at last,  
The dreadful fruits of their Rebellions taste.   

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 Power;  
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 dispense  
Among a savage People void of Sense.  
I'll, like my Sun, spread my enlightening Grace  
On every Nation sprung from Adam's Race.   

On thee, O jacob, I thy angry God,  
Vast heaps of heavy Mischief will unload.  
For kindled by my Wrath a Fire shall burn  
The Forests down, and Hills to Cinders turn.  
It through 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 lingering Famine wasted lie,  
And shall not, till 'tis late, have leave to die.  
Their Air shall be infected, and the Breath  
That fed their Life, shall now give certain Death.  
Fevers in livid, poisonous Steams conveyed,  
And burning Plagues their Dwellings shall invade,  
If any should these foremost Plagues outlive,  
I'll to the Forest Beasts Commissions give,  
And to the Serpents that in Caves abide,  
Or in the Dust their speckled Terrors hid,  
Th' Apostate Sons of jacob to devour,  
That slight my Favours, and defy my Power.  
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.  
Pierced with the Sword the sucking Infant cries,  
And in th' expiring Mother's Bosom dies.  
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 subdued, and chased 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 Interest lies!  
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 Enemy's 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 inferior are.  
This by th' Sufferings which they undergo,  
Their conquered Towns and routed Arms know.  
Had he been pleased among us to abide,  
Conquest had still attended Israel's side.  
'Tis from ourselves alone our Sufferings spring,  
For Sin at last will sure Destruction bring.   

I planted jacob as a noble Vine,  
Expecting thence a rich and generous Wine,  
But 'tis 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 pressed 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 stored.  
But tho' I suffer long they grossly err,  
That thence shall their Impunity infer.  
Their Wickedness exactly I record,  
Their Crimes are safely with my Treasure stored,  
Next to the Caves where I my Vengeance hoard.  
To me belongs to punish and reward,  
The Debt is ne'er forgotten, tho' deferred.  
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 suffering Israel will in Anguish say,  
I did not pardon, tho' I did delay.   

Yet God at last will from his Wrath departed,  
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 oppressed.  
When he shall find the Plagues that he employed,  
Has almost Iacob's guilty Race destroyed.  
He'll thus the stupid Criminals upbraid,  
Where are the Gods to whom you bowed and prayed?  
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 Prayers thy Gods invoke,  
To bring thee Aid and break thy heavy Yoke.  
Now by your sad experience learn and see,  
That I the Lord, even 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 Power withstand,  
And tear a Prisoner 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 glittering Sword, and raise my Shield,  
When I my deadly Instruments prepare,  
And arm myself to undertake the War;  
My Fury shall my Enemy's 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 join with Iacob's Sons in Songs of Joy:  
For on their Foes God will avenge the blood  
Of those who steadfast in his Service stood.  
To Israel he his Mercy will extend,  
And Heavenly Light and Truth amidst their Dwellings send.    

A PARAPHRASE On part of the xiuth Cham of Isaiah.  
Beginning at the 4th, and ending at the 24th Verse.  

THE Nations round amazed and overjoyed,  
Shall crowd to see proud Babylon destroyed.  
They'll spread their Hands to Heaven, and say,  
O blessed, O long expected Day!  
How from his Throne is the great Tyrant cast,  
The Ravager that all our Towns defaced,  
Ruined Mankind, and laid all Nature waist!  
How is th' Imperial, Purple Plague that reigned,  
And raged so long at last restrained?  
Where are the Guards who used to wait  
Before th' Oppressor's Palace Gate?  
Where are the awful Ensigns of his State?  
Where is the fawning flattering Throng,  
That to his Court did once belong?  
Who did the Monster as a God adore,  
And bless the ravening Jaws that did Mankind devour.   

The haughty City which the World controlled,  
Magnificent with Cedar, and with Gold,  
Which towering stood amidst the Skies,  
See where her Head in heaps of Rubbish lies.  
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 heavens, how soon  
Is all her Pride and Glory gone!  
God by a great illustrious Stroke  
Of Justice, has her Monarch's Sceptre broke,  
And freed the groaning Nations from his Yoke.  
He has destroyed the towers of Babylon,  
And rend the Pillars that upheld her Throne.  
He has her cruel Power withstood,  
And on her Head avenged the Nation's Blood.  
She that the Faces of the Poor did grind,  
That ne'er to Mercy was inclined,  
Shall no Compassion from the conqueror find.  
The People by her Yoke oppressed,  
By Heaven delivered from their Bondage rest.  
Kingdoms enslaved 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 rejoice,  
And with a grateful Voice  
The Cedars that in stately Order grow  
On Lebanon's high Airy Brow,  
Cry, we of this deliverance too partake,  
Let us as well as Men our thankful Offering 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 through the Hills resound,  
Nor shall our mangled Limbs o'erspred th' encumbered ground   

The Grave shall for th' Assyrian Monarch's sake  
Disturb the Peaceful Dead, and make  
Her drowsy Lodgers rise,  
Shake from their Feet their Chains, and Slumber from their Eyes.  
Princes and Kings who underground  
Only with Worms and Dust are crowned,  
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 Sceptre had so vast a sway,  
Whose Will even Kings themselves did once obey,  
Stripped of thy Power and Majesty,  
Art thou as Naked, Poor and Weak as we?  
Can not thy Conquering Arms 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 used to hear  
The Viol's, or the Harp's melodious Noise,  
Or the Flatterer's softer Voice,  
Be now with us the Dead entombed,  
To everlasting Silence doomed?   

How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer,  
Son of the Morn,  
How does thy Glory disappear,  
Which once thy Temples did adorn?  
Grown mad with Pride, by Flattery fed,  
Thou in thy Heart has oft blaspheming said,  
I into Heaven, will, as a God, arise,  
And shine above the Stars amidst the Skies.  
Worship Divine will me befit,  
I base Mortality disown,  
And therefore will on Zion fix my Throne,  
And there to be adored in Majesty will sit.  
Above the Clouds of Heaven will I ascend,  
And my Dominion o'er the World extend.  
My Greatness Men shall like to God's adore,  
And uncontrolled, like his, shall be my sovereign Power.  
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 governed Millions with his Nod,  
And on the Necks of Captive Princes trod?  
Is this th' Immortal Man that never cloyed  
With Blood and Rapine all the Earth destroyed?  
That Princes of their Thrones did dispossess  
Did wasted Nations with his Yoke oppress,  
And made the empty World a howling Wilderness?  
Who towers demolished, goodly Buildings burned  
And Cities into Rubbish turned;  
Who never gave his People rest,  
Nor once his Prisoners from their Chains released.   

When other sovereign Princes die,  
They lie in pompous Sepulchers, prepared  
To Lodge their Royal Family,  
And as they lived they are in State interred.  
But none thy Body in the Tomb shall lay,  
They'll cast it as a rotten Branch away.  
No Funeral Honours shall thy Hearse adorn,  
But as the bloody Raiment of the Slain  
Whom the next Pit or Quarries entertain,  
Thy more polluted Carcase shall with scorn  
Be trodden under foot, and into pieces torn.   

Thou shalt not from thy Palace be conveyed  
As other Monarches use to be,  
Nor in a stately Tomb be laid  
With costly Rites and sad Solemnity.  
Because thy Savage Hand  
Has slain thy People and destroyed thy Land.  
God shall all Marks and Monuments efface  
Of this ungodly, cruel Race.  
His Hand that raised 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 cursed House may never more  
Regain their Splendour and their former Power.   

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 towers I'll levelly 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 through thy Cedar Chambers roll,  
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 Citadel.  
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 xxxiuth Cham of Isaiah. paraphrased.  

YE various Nations who disperse  
Your Dwellings through the spacious Universe,  
Inhabitants of every distant Soil,  
Of every Continent and every Isle,  
At heavens 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 Kind's of Death employ  
The Heathen Nations to destroy;  
Who mixing Arms advance from far  
Against our Land confederate War.  
Their Bodies shall unburied lie, a Feast  
To every ravening Forest 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 through the tainted Air Malignant Vapours spread.   

Down from the Hills on which their Arms 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 drowned.   

Nature shall groan, and during this attack  
Her universal Frame shall with Convulsions shake.  
The Sun and Moon amazed to see  
Nature's convulsive Agony  
Shall spring, and start from out their Spheres;  
And all the glittering Host of Stars  
Seized with no less affright,  
Shall fly away from Mortals sight,  
And in the Bosom hid of ancient Night.  
The vast Expansion drawn around the World,  
Shall like a useless Sail be furled.  
All the blue Volumes of the Sky shall roll  
Themselves together, as a Parchment Scroll.  
Celestial Orbs that round us shine  
Falling from Heaven 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 'tis in Heaven decreed,  
Shall bathe itself 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 haste  
To slay the Men, and lay the Country waist.  
Where e'er his Course the conqueror bends,  
Ruin in all its frightful Forms attends.  
Death and Destruction keep an equal pace,  
And Desolation shows her ghastly, wasteful Face.   

The glittering Glutton shall be gorged 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 combined  
Against us, in Destruction too are joined.  
Princes and Lords who armed with Power  
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 saved, and Man th' Offender dies.   

So great a Slaughter shall be made,  
That all the Land shall under Blood be laid.  
The Carcases 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 traveler ever more shall pass  
Through this accursed, inhospitable Place.  
Ne'er shall be seen the footsteps of a Man,  
But the hoarse 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 Conquering Sword.  
Thistles and thorny Trees  
Shall flourish in their Prince's 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 possessed,  
The Serpent shall erect his speckled Crest,  
Or fold his circling Spires to rest.   

The long-necked Giant of the feathered Kind  
The Ostrich, there a sandy Nest shall find.  
Leopards and all the ravening 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 settle here their bloody Colonies.  
Satyr's shall to their Fellows cry, advance,  
Let us to Edom's Land make haste,  
'Tis a silent, lonesome Waste,  
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 overjoyed to find  
A perfect desolation to their Mind.    

THE xlth Chap. of Isaiah. paraphrased.  

YE Prophets who divine Credentials bear  
Distinguished by your Sacred Character,  
Envoys and Agents, who by my Command  
Reside in Palestina's Land;  
To whom Commission I have given  
To manage there the Interests of Heaven;  
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 jerusalem, and cry  
The time of her Deliverance is nigh.  
Say her Offences I'll forget,  
Nor more my scourging Strokes repeat.  
Her Sufferings and her Servitude shall cease,  
And from Oppression I'll her Sons release.  
Th' Alarms of War she shall no longer hear,  
No more Assyrian Arms fear.  
She shall enjoy uninterrupted Ease,  
Gathered beneath the downy Wings of Peace.  
The Sufferings 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 reverence, Hark! the noise  
Grows more distinct; 'tis the commanding Voice  
Of one that in the Desert cries,  
Let all the Nations round arise:  
Ye Pioners of Heaven prepare a Road  
Through the pathless Wilderness,  
Make it plain and straight and broad,  
And let your Shouts your Joy express.  
Th' obstructing Groves and Forests levelly lay,  
And for th' Almighty make a way;  
For he in Person will his People head  
And out from Babylon his rescued Captives lead.  
He will from Heaven 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 valley 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 show  
Th' astonished World what Wonders he can do.  
That he'll effect this mighty Work, the Lord  
Has given his never-failing Word.   

Th' Almighty bid his Prophet say,  
All Men are subject to decay,  
And whither, 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 Tidings thou hast got, impart  
To raise my People's drooping Heart.  
Lift up thy Voice and let the Echoing sound  
From Wood to Wood, from Hill to Hill rebound,  
And ring through all the Vales and all the Towns around.  
Cry with a loud and fearless Voice,  
Let▪ all thy Cities, Palestine, rejoice.  
Your sinking Heads ye Towns of judah rear  
Behold your God your great Deliverer  
In Person to your Aid advances near.  
See where th' Almighty conqueror 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 Forests at his Presence bow  
How silently the Rivers flow.  
How do the Plains, through which he marches, smoke!  
How do the troubled Mountains rock!  
He needs the Aid of no confederate Power,  
His single Arms will Victory ensure.  
He brings to crown the Just a bright Reward,  
And for the Wicked Vengeance has prepared.   

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 Power.   

In the wide hollow of his Hand may sleep  
All the collected Waters of the Deep:  
Let all the Rivers too be thither rolled,  
The vast Abyss will yet more Seas and Rivers hold.  
His Span across the widest heavens can stretch,  
And the vast Void beyond 'em overreach.  
The Rocks and Hills he in a Balance lays  
And high amidst the Air th' uplifted Mountains weighs.  
This Globe when held in his Capacious Hand,  
Seems a small Atom, or a single Sand.   

When God the Draughts of Heaven and Earth designed,  
And formed 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 raised 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 Counsellor 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 steady 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 compared;  
Or Dust that in the Balance 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 Forest stored,  
Or can it Beasts enough afford  
For a Burnt offering 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 Power  
By whose supplies his various Worlds endure,  
Held back his Streams, Mankind would soon expire,  
Dissolve, and into nothing straight 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 Antic lackered 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 over with Gold.  
The Crowd their gaudy Deity admire  
Th' effect of Art, the Creature of the Fire.  
Then lest 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 Offering for his God procure,  
To Idols he's so much inclined,  
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 fixed 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 covered lie  
With the thick Darkness of Idolatry,  
How can a Truth to all revealed,  
As clear as Day, be still from you concealed?  
That is, that God's the only God, to whom  
You should with humble Adoration come.  
The Starry heavens which he has made,  
The Earth whose deep Foundations he has laid,  
His Being and his Majesty declare,  
And show how boundless his Perfection● are:  
Above the Circle of the Earth, on high  
He sits enthron'd amidst th' Imperial Sky;  
Whence when he casts his Eyes around,  
And views the Earth hung low in Air,  
As little Infects creeping on the Ground,  
Contemptible Mankind appear.  
The Heavenly Spheres 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 Power 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 oppressed,  
As with a furious Tempest from the East,  
Their ruin'd Branches shall decay,  
And fade, like withering Plants, away.   

Where then, says God, can Men my Equal see?  
What Object can resemble me?  
Lift up, O Man, on high thy wondering 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 heavens, and all those Orbs of Light?  
Do they not run their Courses and dispense  
At his Command their Light and Influence?  
He their great Gen'ral Day by Day  
Draws out his glittering Arms 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 Power and Greatness they proclaim.   

Why dost thou say, O jacob, 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 Prayer,  
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 pleased so long his People to disown,  
That now our Case is desperate grown.  
Now, if he would, he can't assistance give,  
We're ruined, and undone, past all retrieve.   

O, dost thou not unthoughtful jacob, know  
Who made the heavens 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 People's Cause?  
Will he that all things wisely does direct,  
His People's Interests neglect,  
Will he their Sufferings slight, and earnest Prayers reject?   

He grows not faint, nor does his Vigour waste  
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 does he with a less attentive Ear  
The Cries of guiltless sufferers hear:  
But then the Seasons of deliverance 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 deliverance sends  
When it promotes their Good, and serves his glorious Ends.  
His Counsels, which so far exceed our reach,  
Sold Patience and Submission teach.   

He gives supplies of Power to those that want,  
Strengthens the Feeble and revives the Faint.  
The Youngest Men in whose distended Veins,  
And brawny Nerves Athletic Vigour 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 Vigour ne'er shall spend.  
He'll reinforce them with recruits of Power,  
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 increase,  
That they their Burdens may sustain with Ease,  
Till he shall choose his time his Captives to release.    

Part of the LII And the whole LIII Chap. of Isaiah, paraphrased.  

MY Servant shall acquire divine Renown,  
And regal Honours shall his Temple's 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 Subject's Rights maintain,  
Protect his Friends, Oppressor's rage restrain,  
And everlasting Peace shall bless his glorious Reign.  
As Men at his Affliction were amazed  
And on his wondrous Woe with Horror gazed,  
(Whose Face was so deformed, his Flesh so worn  
With all the Toil 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 Heavenly Doctrines on the Nations round  
Shall fall as dropping Rain upon the Ground.  
Attentive Monarches 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 Tidings hear they never heard before.  
Tidings 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 inclined  
And tender Mercy moved to lost Mankind,  
From his Immortal Throne on high descends  
To compass all his great and glorious Ends,  
Who in the blessed Redeemer will believe?  
Who'll the Divine Commissioner receive,  
Or to his Heavenly Message Credit give?  
He'll not advance in Pomp and regal State,  
No shouting Crowds shall on his Chariot wait.  
No Harbingers or Heralds shall proclaim  
His coming down, and spread abroad his Fame.  
He shall no Guards, no long Retinue take  
Like earthly Kings that Public Entries make.  
He'll not as Lords and mighty Conq'rours do,  
Vast Arms head the Nations to subdue,  
And found an Empire for th' ambitious Jew.  
Mean and obscure shall be my Servant's 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 Power and Word of God blaspheme.  
As his Condition and his Birth are low,  
Mean and despised, 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  
Distinguished 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 continued Chain  
Of Labour, Sorrow, and consuming Pain.  
He daily shall converse with Grief and Woe,  
And with Affliction shall familiar grow.  
Unmeasured Sufferings, exquisite Distress,  
And ponderous 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 men's Transgressions, not his own.  
He shall the whole Collected Gild 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 Gild shall take,  
And by his Sufferings full atonement 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 Heavenly Paths of Virtue have declined:  
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 disobeyed.  
All the black Streams of Gild 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 incensed did Punishment demand,  
Exacting Payment at th' offender's Hand:  
And since we could not pay so great a Sum,  
The blessed Messiah Surety did become.  
He did himself the mighty Debt discharge  
Due to offended Heaven and Man enlarge.  
When God's Right-Hand with Vengeance armed, designed  
To execute his Wrath on Humane Kind,  
He interposing, on his Guiltless Head  
Received the Blow, and suffered in our Stead.  
For as the harmless Sheep beneath the Shears  
Is Dumb, and all his Sufferings meekly bears,  
Does even 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 blessed design  
His Pains he'll undergo, his Life resign  
Serene as Heaven, and mild as Love Divine.   

'Tis true, at last he shall surmount his Woes,  
Break all the Powers, 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 Skies  
After a red and bloody Setting rise.  
The conqueror shall ascend in Royal State,  
And Death itself 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 heavens high Arches grace.  
A willing Victim he resigned his Breath  
In all the Tortures of a lingering Death.  
To suffer as a Criminal conveyed.  
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 lapsed 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 pleased to bruise and wound him with his Rod.  
When that a Ransom may for Man be paid  
He of his Life an Offering shall have made,  
He from the Grave shall as a conqueror 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,  
Quickened by his Prolific Death shall crown  
His Sufferings past, and him their Father own.  
His work completed he'll with great content  
Review the Torments which he underwent.  
He shall enjoy the Travel of his Soul;  
Pleased to have drank th' Almighty's wrathful Bowl.  
The Glory of his Father he'll regard  
And Man's Redemption as a full reward.  
For by his Knowledge and Celestial Grace  
〈◊〉 many save of Adam's sinful Race.  
He of their Gild 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 Skies  
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 Monarches 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 ruined with a deadly Wound.  
Captivity exposed to public scorn,  
A fettered 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. paraphrased.  

AS God advanced from lofty Teman's Head,  
And o'er the Plains of Paran came,  
The heavens 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' prepared his way,  
Such Power th' Almighty did dispense.   

Torrents of Glory dazzling bright,  
Too fierce and keen for Humane Sight  
Broke from th' immense Abyss of uncreated Light.  
Even from his Hands a bright Eruption came,  
A pointed Efflux of Immortal Flame.  
Transcendent Splendour 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,  
Wring their Hands and tearing off their Hair,  
A formidable Troop, came howling in the Rear.   

Th' Almighty on the Frontiers made a stand  
To measure out the promised Land.  
He did distinctly circumscribe  
Th' Inheritance of every Tribe.  
That done the Nations he asunder drove,  
And marched the Lords of Canaan to remove.   

His swift-winged Whirlwinds onward flew,  
And o'er the Hills his Chariot drew;  
Whose awful Wheels rolled 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 expressed their dread  
And everlasting Mountains bowed their aged Head.   

When Isr'el marched over dry Arabia's Sand,  
By Moses led to Canaan's Land,  
How were the States on either side  
At their approach alarmed and terrified?  
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 general's wonder-working Rod?  
That Rod which turned 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 rolled them up on Heaps on either side,  
When he prepared his warlike Equipage  
His Chariots and his Horse King Pharaoh 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 chased the Cananite.  
Thus to his Promise God was true  
Which to the Tribes he did so oft renew.   

As Israel's Host advanced to Canaan's Land,  
Oppressed with drought amidst the Sand.  
Refreshing Streams were in the Desert 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 shaken for fear.  
jordan held back his cleaving Flood  
And high in Craggy Heaps the Crystal Waters stood.  
Bare and defrauded of its Tide,  
The sandy Channel 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 showed 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 Giant loves his Course to run,  
Did in his full Career his Chariot stay  
On heavens Descent, and stopped the falling Day.  
Progressive Time was at a stand,  
His drooping Wings unable to expand.  
The Constellations, and th' astonished Moon,  
Halted to gaze upon the standing Sun.  
So long its lingering Orb its Light did lend  
As Ioshuah's Troops had Spears to spend;  
As long as they had Darts to cast away,  
Or there remained a Foe to slay.   

In Indignation God through Canaan past,  
And with his terrible alarms  
And Conquering Arms  
He chased the Kings, and laid the Nations waste.  
Isr'els' Salvation to complete  
He onward marched 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 Families confound.  
He overthrew their Palaces  
Th' Imperial Seats of Pride and Wickedness.  
He broke the Pillars that sustained their weight,  
And razed 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 despite of these alarms,  
In spite of all their Plots and Arms:  
Thou with thy Conquering 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 tortured 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 quivering 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 Arms bring,  
Arms to Blood and Rapine bred,  
To pull down Isr'el's lofty Head,  
And dreadful Desolation o'er our Cities spread   

And then tho' Famine should invade,  
Tho' Plants and Flowers and Fruits should fade;  
Tho' on the Vine no Clusters should appear,  
And tho' the Figtree should no Blossoms bear;  
Tho' th' Olive yields not to the Dresser Oil,  
And barren Fields defeat the Farmer's toil;  
Tho' the high Folds no bleating Flocks surround,  
And in the Stalls no lowing Herds are found;  
Yet I'll rejoice 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 Power.   
FINIS.