And will he, trembling, from his throne descend,
To still thy cavils and his ways defend ?
Art thou unconscious of thy vast offence ?
Is not the number of thy sins immense ?
Extortions from thy kin defile thy hands,
The shivering loin its rag from thee demands.
To thee the thirsty sued, the famish'd sigh❜d,
Seal'd was thy fountain, and thy crust deny'd.
A fav'rite name enjoy'd his spoil secure,
The strongest arm still made the title sure;
While the wrong'd widow pour'd her fruitless moan,
And orphans crash'd by thy injustice groan.
Hence ambus'd ills about thy path were set,
Hence the dire sweep of desolation's net;
Hence black despair, like night around thee spread,
And booming waters billowing o'er thy head.
Beholds not God, from his ethereal seat,
The stars dim twinkling far beneath his feet?
Yet mark the distance, how immensely far,
From this low dwelling to the nearest star!
Thy frenzy argu'd; can the ways of men
Lie in the compass of his bounded ken?
Gross atmosphere, with interposing screen
Conceals the prospect of this earthly scene;
He, veil'd in clouds, to his own cares confin'd,
Walks round his azure realms unheeding human kind.

SEC. II.

O THOU, whose passion at the ways of God,
Rends thy own soul, shall he renounce his rod,
Desert our world, or change his fix'd decrees,
As the rock fix'd, thy murmurs to appease ?
And will you thus abuse the pow'rs of breath,
To vent opinions mischievous as death?

Death to religion, to all virtue bane,
Thy words the lifted hands of prayer restrain.
Thy mouth bewrays, spite of its glossing art
Th' impiety close-lurking in thy heart:
By thy own mouth condemn'd, what need of mine ?
Sufficient voucher for thy guilt is thine.
Born before Adam, saw thy favour'd eyes
The wood-crown'd hills from eldest ocean rise?
Hast thou in the celestial synod stood?
The counsels heard, th' Almighty's edicts view'd?
Dost thou possess the secrets of his rule ?
Thou only wise and ev'ry man a fool?
What boasts thy knowledge above ours? Behold,
With us the head in grave experience old ;
Yea th' old man, to whom low-bending years
Thy father's wrinkled age as youth appears.
Mean are divine emollients ? held for vile,
Friendship's monitions couch'd in friendly style?
Whither will headlong pride impel thy soul?
How fiercely wild thy flashing eye-balls roll,
Thy spirit turning upon God again,
And passion raving in audacious strain!
"What, pureness challeng'd by a child of dust ?
"By woman born, the lofty style of just ?
"Not pure. not just, before his piercing sight,
"Are even his holy ministers of light;
"How then, that foul abominable thing,
Who sins as eager as he quaffs his spring ?"

SEC. III.

HUMBLE thyself to God, resign thy prey;
Rich harvest follows the repenting day:
Embrace his lessons, his imperial word
Deep in the table of thy heart record.

22

Vagrant from God, return; with sparkling eyes
Then see thy bow'r renew'd in beauty rise:
But hallow'd be thy tents, expel from thence
All cover'd crime and manifest offence.
Leave Ophir's gold in her own streams to shine,
God all-sufficient be thy boundless mine.
To him, in blest fruition of his grace,
Noble affiance shall erect thy face.

He'll crown thy prayer, mature thy vows in praise,
Thy edicts stablish, and illume thy ways.
The proud shall sink, on thy complaint deprest ;
Affliction sing, redeem'd at thy request:
The righteous man shall stay th' Almighty's hand,
And turn the thunder from a sinning land.

SEC. I.

CHAP. VII.

-Contains a speech of Job's, in which he complains of his friend's derision and severity, and from his arguments it follows, that a man's worldly condition, whether prosperous or adverse. is no criterion of his moral character- -SEC II — -Reflects irreverently on his Maker; he however in the third section anticipates a future triumph, &c. &c.

YES, answer'd Job, ye are the enlightened few,
Fav'rites of wisdom! will she die with you?
And yet my portion of the mental ray

Is not inferior to your boasted day.

And should not judgment be the crown of age
And snow white locks bespeak th' experienc'd sage P

But disputants you are, and your replies

Show pompous triflers and invidious spies;

Be dumb, so prove your wisdom; dumb receive
Sharp castigation, which my lips shall give.
On God's behalf these methods will you dare
Unjust in judging, in disputes unfair?
To him be partial, half the truth conceal;
Then sanctify the fraud and call it zeal ?
Can you abide his test ? will soothing style,
Which man deceives, th' Almighty's ear beguile?
If partial thought work secretly within,
Tremble; be certain he will mark the sin.
Shall not his majesty your fears alarm ?
Nor yet the thunder of his lifted arm ?
What are your boasted maxims ? what your heap
Of swelling promises ? I hold them cheap :
Like as the dust before the rising gale
Molehills of sand, as worthless and as frail.
Peace, unmolesting while I pour abroad
My honest pleadings by no peril aw'd:
Befall what will; I'll put within my hand
My trembling life, and every danger stand.
Officious in my case I find you all,
Your documents are stings, your comforts gall..
With endless brawl shall declamation roar?
What rous'd by passion to one tempest more?
Would I thus pour rough answers in your ear?
Hard as your hearts, and as your style severe,
Or shake the scornful head, should heav'n assign
Your soul the miserable place of mine ?
Ah! no-soft pity should inspire my phrase,
I'd soothe your sorrows and your courage raise.
For me 0 what shall mollify my grief,
Nor plaining yields, nor silence yields relief;
And now I faint beneath its swelling load,
By sland'rous tongues unpeople my abode :

1

I'm siez'd as though a homicide by thee;
Then blacken'd with thy daring calumny.

SEC. II.

AH! so it pleas'd th' Almighty to ordain,
Ev'n to expose me in bis shaming chain,
To sons of Belial, to licentious throngs,
And the rude insult of reviling tongues.
I once was happy, but his forceful hand
Siez'd, shook me, hurl'd me from my lofty stand :
Then, bruis'd and dash'd to pieces, still on me,
Fix'd for his mark, vengeance I'm doom'd to see.
His unrelenting bowmen hem me round,
Pierce, cleave me, shed my vitals on the ground.
'Tis he, e'en he, th' Almighty, is my foe,

His strong arm hews me, thund'ring blow on blow.
Grief's sable weed to my flaid body grows,

Grief on my honour'd head foul ashes throws,

Grief mars my face with scalding tears, and night
Black as the grave sits heavy on my sight.

Yet are these hands with no injustice stain'd:
Pure from these lips still flows the prayer unfeign'd:
O earth, the blood accusing me reveal;
Its piercing voice in no recess conceal;
My witness lives in heav'n whose conscious view
Does all my goings and my thoughts pursue.
The pastime of my friends, my streaming eye
Looks up for pity to the pow'r on high.
O might I argue in his ear, and free
As in a mortal court maintain my plea:
O fix my trial; cheerful I'll appear.
Before thy face, my injur'd fame to clear,
Who shall arise, who give his plighting hand
As adverse party in this strife to stand ?