Be dumb, ye grov'lling sons of Verse,
Who sing not actions, but rehearse,
And fool the Muse with impotent desire;
Ye Sacrilegious! who presume

To tarnish Britain's naval bloom,
Sing Britain's fame, with all her hero's fire.

CHORUS.

YE Syrens! sing; ye Tritons! blow;
Ye Nereids! dance; ye Billows! flow;
Roll to my measures, O ye Starry throng!
Ye Winds! in concert breathe around;
Ye Navies! to the concert bound

From pole to pole! to Britain all belong:
Britain to Heav'n; from Heav'n descends my song:

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Volume IV.

II

ON PART OF THE BOOK OF JOB.

THRICE
HRICE happy Job † long liv'd in regal state,
Nor saw the sumptuous East a prince so great:

It is disputed among the critics, who was the author of the book of Job; some give it to Moses, some to others As I was engaged in this little performance, some arguments occurred to me which favour the former of these opinions; which arguments I have flung into the following Notes, where little else is to be expected.

+ The Almighty's speech, chap. xxxviii, &c. which is what I paraphrase in this little work, is by much the finest part of the noblest and most ancient poem in the world. Bishop Patrick savsits grandeur is as much above all other poetry, as thunder is louder than a whisper. In order to set this distinguished part of the poem in a fuller 'light, and give the reader a clearer conception of it, [ have abridged the preceding and subsequent parts of the poem, and joined them to it; so that this piece is a sort of an epitome of the whole book of Job.

I use the word paraphrase, because I want another which might better answer to the uncommon liberties I have taken. I have omitted, added, and transposed. The mountain, the comet, the sun, and other parts, are entirely added: those upon the peacock, the lion, &c. are much enlarged; and I have thrown the whole into a method more suitable to our notions of regularity. The judicious, if they compare this piece with the original, will, I flatter myself, find the reasons for the great liberties I have indulged myself in through the whole.

This

Longinus has a chapter on Interrogations, which shews that they contribute much to the sublime. speech of the Almighty is made up of them. Interrogation seems, indeed, the proper style of majesty incensed. It differs from other manner of reproof, as bidding a person execute himself from a common execution; for he that asks the guilty a proper question, makes him, in effect, pass sentence on himself.

1

Whose worldly stores in such abundance flow'd,
Whose heart with such exalted virtue glow'd.
At length misfortunes take their turn to reign,
And ills on ills succeed, a dreadful train!

What now but deaths, and poverty, and wrong,
The sword wide-wasting, the reproachful tongue,
And spotted plagues, that mark'd his limbs all o'er
So thick with pains, they wanted room for more? 10
A change so sad what mortal heart could bear?

Exhausted woe had left him nought to fear,
But gave him all to grief. Low earth he press'd,
Wept in the dust, and sorely smote his breast.
His friends around the deep affliction mourn'd,
Felt all his pangs, and groan for groan return'd;
In anguish of their hearts their mantles rent,
And sev'n long days in solemn silence spent;
A debt of rev'rence to distress so great!

Then Job contain'd no more, but curs'd his fate. 20
His day of birth, its inauspicious light,

His wishes sunk in shades of endless night,
And blotted from the year; nor fears to crave
Death, instant death, impatient for the grave,
That seat of peace, that mansion of repose,
Where rest and mortals are no longer foes;
Where counsellors are hush'd, and mighty kings
(O happy turn!) no more are wretched things.

His words were daring, and displeas'd his friends;
His conduct they reprove, and he defends;
And now they kindled into warm debate,
And sentiments oppos'd with equal heat:

Young.]

Hij

30

Fix'd in opinion, both refuse to yield,

And summon all their reason to the field:

So high, at length, their arguments were wrought,
They reach'd the last extent of human thought:
A pause ensu'd: when, lo! Heav'n interpos'd,
And awfully the long contention clos'd.
Full o'er their heads, with terrible surprise,
A sudden whirlwind blacken'd all the skies:
(They saw and trembled!) from the darkness broke
A dreadful voice, and thus th' Almighty spoke.*
Who gives his tongue a loose so bold and vain,
Censures my conduct, and reproves my reign;
Lifts up his thought against me from the dust,
And tells the world's Creator what is just:
Of late so brave, now lift a dauntless eye,
Face my demand, and give it a reply.
Where didst thou dwell at Nature's early birth?
Who laid foundations for the spacious earth?
Who on its surface did extend the line,
Its form determine, and its bulk confine?

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50

The book of Job is well known to be dramatic, and, like the tragedies of Old Greece, is fiction built on truth. Probably this most noble part of it, the Almighty speaking out of the whirlwind (so suitable to the after-practice of the Greek stage, when there happened dignus vindice nodus) is fictitious; but it is a fiction more agreeable to the time in which Job lived than to any since. Frequent before the law were the appearances of the Almighty after this manner, Exod. ch. xix. Ezek. ch. 1. c. Hence is he said to dwell in thick darkness; and bave his way in the whirlwind.

Í

Who fix'd the corner-stone? what hand, declare,
Hung it on nought, and fasten'd it in air,
When the bright morning stars in concert sung,
When heav'n's high arch with loud hosannas rung,
When shouting sons of God the triumph crown'd,
And the wide concave thunder with the sound?
Earth's num'rous kingdoms hast thou view'd them all?
And can thy span of knowldge grasp the ball? 60
Who heav'd the mountain which sublimely stands,
And casts its shadow into distant lands?

Who, stretching forth his sceptre o'er the deep,
Can that wild world in due subjection keep?
I broke the globe, I scoop'd its hollow'd side,
And did a bason for the floods provide:

I chain'd them with my word: the boiling sea,
Work'd up in tempests, hears my great decree;
"Thus far thy floating tide shall be convey'd;
"And here, O Main! be thy proud billows stay'd."
Hast thou explor'd the secrets of the deep
Where, shut from use, unnumber'd treasures sleep?

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*There is a very great air in all that precedes, but this is signally sublime. We are struck with admiration to see the vast and ungovernable ocean receiving commands, and punctually obeying them; to find it like a managed horse, raging, tossing, and foaming, but by the rule and direction of its master. This passage yields in sublimity to that of Let there be light, &c. so much only, as the absolute government of nature yields to the creation of it.

The like spirit in these two passages is no bad concur rent argument that Moses is author of the book of Job.