The Poetical Works of Edward Young Part 19

The greatness and solemnity of the subjects treated of in the following work cannot fail in some measure to recommend it to a person who holds in the utmost veneration those sacred books from which it is taken; and would at the same time justify to the world my choice of the great name prefixed to it, could I be a.s.sured that the undertaking had not suffered in my hands. Thus much I think myself obliged to say; that if this little performance had not been very indulgently spoken of by some, whose judgment is universally allowed in writings of this nature, I had not dared to gratify my ambition in offering it to your lords.h.i.+p: I am sensible that I am endeavouring to excuse one vanity by another; but I hope I shall meet with pardon for it, since it is visibly intended to show the great submission and respect with which I am, my lord, your lords.h.i.+p's most obedient and most humble servant,

EDWARD YOUNG.

Thrice happy Job(26) long liv'd in regal state, Nor saw the sumptuous East a prince so great; 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?

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 prest, 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 seven long days in solemn silence spent; A debt of rev'rence to distress so great!

Then Job contain'd no more; but cursed his fate.

His day of birth, its inauspicious light He 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 bliss, 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; 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! Heaven 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!(27)) 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 thoughts 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 s.p.a.cious earth?

Who on its surface did extend the line, Its form determine, and its bulk confine?

Who fix'd the corner-stone? What hand, declare, Hung it on nought, and fasten'd it on air; When the bright morning stars in concert sung, When heaven's high arch with loud hosannas rung; When shouting sons of G.o.d the triumph crown'd, And the wide concave thunder'd with the sound?

Earth's num'rous kingdoms, hast thou view'd them all?

And can thy span of knowledge grasp the ball?

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 wide 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; "(28)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?

Where, down a thousand fathoms from the day, Springs the great fountain, mother of the sea?

Those gloomy paths did thy bold foot e'er tread, Whole worlds of waters rolling o'er thy head?

Hath the cleft centre open'd wide to thee?

Death's inmost chambers didst thou ever see?

E'er knock at his tremendous gate, and wade To the black portal through th' inc.u.mbent shade?

Deep are those shades; but shades still deeper hide My counsels from the ken of human pride.

Where dwells the light? In what refulgent dome?

And where has darkness made her dismal home?

Thou know'st, no doubt, since thy large heart is fraught With ripen'd wisdom, through long ages brought; Since nature was call'd forth when thou wast by, And into being rose beneath thine eye!

Are mists begotten? Who their father knew?

From whom descend the pearly drops of dew?

To bind the stream by night, what hand can boast, Or whiten morning with the h.o.a.ry frost?

Whose powerful breath, from northern regions blown, Touches the sea, and turns it into stone?

The like spirit in these two pa.s.sages is no bad concurrent argument, that Moses is author of the book of Job.]

A sudden desart spreads o'er realms defac'd, And lays one half of the creation waste?

Thou know'st me not; thy blindness cannot see How vast a distance parts thy G.o.d from thee.

Canst thou in whirlwinds mount aloft? Canst thou In clouds and darkness wrap thy awful brow?

And, when day triumphs in meridian light, Put forth thy hand, and shade the world with night?

Who launch'd the clouds in air, and bid them roll Suspended seas aloft, from pole to pole?

Who can refresh the burning sandy plain, And quench the summer with a waste of rain?

Who, in rough desarts, far from human toil, Made rocks bring forth, and desolation smile?

There blooms the rose, where human face ne'er shone, And spreads its beauties to the sun alone.

To check the shower, who lifts his hand on high, And shuts the sluices of th' exhausted sky When earth no longer mourns her gaping veins, Her naked mountains, and her russet plains; But, new in life, a cheerful prospect yields Of s.h.i.+ning rivers, and of verdant fields; When groves and forests lavish all their bloom, And earth and heaven are fill'd with rich perfume?

Hast thou e'er scal'd my wintry skies, and seen Of hail and snows my northern magazine?

These the dread treasures of mine anger are, My funds of vengeance for the day of war, When clouds rain death, and storms, at my command, Rage through the world, or waste a guilty land.

Who taught the rapid winds to fly so fast, Or shakes the centre with his eastern blast?

Who from the skies can a whole deluge pour?

Who strikes through nature with the solemn roar Of dreadful thunder, points it where to fall, And in fierce lightning wraps the flying ball?

Not he who trembles at the darted fires, Falls at the sound, and in the flash expires.

Who drew the comet out to such a size, And pour'd his flaming train o'er half the skies?

Did thy resentment hang him out? Does he Glare on the nations, and denounce, from thee?

Who on low earth can moderate the rein, That guides the stars along th' ethereal plain?

Appoint their seasons, and direct their course, Their l.u.s.tre brighten, and supply their force?

Canst thou the skies' benevolence restrain, And cause the Pleiades to s.h.i.+ne in vain?

Or, when Orion sparkles from his sphere, Thaw the cold season, and unbind the year?

Bid Mazzaroth his destin'd station know, And teach the bright Arcturus where to glow?

Mine is the night, with all her stars; I pour Myriads, and myriads I reserve in store.

Dost thou p.r.o.nounce where day-light shall be born, And draw the purple curtain of the morn; Awake the sun, and bid him come away, And glad thy world with his obsequious ray?

Hast thou, inthron'd in flaming glory, driven Triumphant round the s.p.a.cious ring of heaven?

That pomp of light, what hand so far displays, That distant earth lies basking in the blaze?

Who did the soul with her rich powers invest, And light up reason in the human breast?

To s.h.i.+ne, with fresh increase of l.u.s.tre, bright, When stars and sun are set in endless night?

To these my various questions make reply.

Th' Almighty spoke; and, speaking, shook the sky.

What then, Chaldaean sire, was thy surprise!

Thus thou, with trembling heart, and downcast eyes: "Once and again, which I in groans deplore, My tongue has err'd; but shall presume no more.

My voice is in eternal silence bound, And all my soul falls prostrate to the ground."

He ceas'd: when, lo! again th' Almighty spoke; The same dread voice from the black whirlwind broke.

Can that arm measure with an arm divine?

And canst thou thunder with a voice like mine?

Or in the hollow of thy hand contain The bulk of waters, the wide-spreading main, When, mad with tempests, all the billows rise In all their rage, and dash the distant skies?

Come forth, in beauty's excellence array'd; And be the grandeur of thy power display'd; Put on omnipotence, and, frowning, make The s.p.a.cious round of the creation shake; Dispatch thy vengeance, bid it overthow Triumphant vice, lay lofty tyrants low, And crumble them to dust. When this is done, I grant thy safety lodg'd in thee alone; Of thee thou art, and mayst undaunted stand Behind the buckler of thine own right hand.

Fond man! the vision of a moment made!

Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!

What worlds hast thou produc'd, what creatures fram'd, What insects cherish'd, that thy G.o.d is blam'd?

When (29)pain'd with hunger, the wild raven's brood Loud calls on G.o.d, importunate for food, Who hears their cry, who grants their hoa.r.s.e request, And stills the clamour of the craving nest?

Who in the stupid ostrich(30) has subdu'd A parent's care, and fond inquietude?

While far she flies, her scatter'd eggs are found, Without an owner, on the sandy ground; Cast out on fortune, they at mercy lie, And borrow life from an indulgent sky; Adopted by the sun, in blaze of day, They ripen under his prolific ray.

Unmindful she, that some unhappy tread May crush her young in their neglected bed.

(31)What time she skims along the field with speed, (32)She scorns the rider, and pursuing steed.

How rich the peac.o.c.k!(33) what bright glories run From plume to plume, and vary in the sun!

He proudly spreads them, to the golden ray Gives all his colours, and adorns the day; With conscious state the specious round displays, And slowly moves amid the waving blaze.

Who taught the hawk to find, in seasons wise, Perpetual summer, and a change of skies?

When clouds deform the year, she mounts the wind, Shoots to the south, nor fears the storm behind; The sun returning, she returns again, Lives in his beams, and leaves ill days to men.

Tho' strong the hawk,(34) tho' practis'd well to fly, An eagle drops her in a lower sky; An eagle, when, deserting human sight, She seeks the sun in her unwearied flight: Did thy command her yellow pinion lift So high in air, and set her on the clift, Where far above thy world she dwells alone, And proudly makes the strength of rocks her own; (35)Thence wide o'er nature takes her dread survey, And with a glance predestinates her prey?

She feasts her young with blood; and, hov'ring o'er Th' unslaughter'd host, enjoys the promis'd gore.

(36)Know'st thou how many moons, by me a.s.sign'd, Roll o'er the mountain goat, and forest hind, While pregnant they a mother's load sustain?

They bend in anguish, and cast forth their pain.

Hale are their young, from human frailties freed; Walk unsustain'd, and una.s.sisted feed; They live at once; forsake the dam's warm side; Take the wide world, with nature for their guide; Bound o'er the lawn, or seek the distant glade; And find a home in each delightful shade.

Will the tall reem, which knows no lord but me, Low at the crib, and ask an alms of thee; Submit his unworn shoulder to the yoke, Break the stiff clod, and o'er thy furrow smoke?

Since great his strength, go trust him, void of care; Lay on his neck the toil of all the year; Bid him bring home the seasons to thy doors, And cast his load among thy gather'd stores.

Didst thou from service the wild a.s.s discharge, And break his bonds, and bid him live at large, Through the wide waste, his ample mansion, roam, And lose himself in his unbounded home?

By nature's hand magnificently fed, His meal is on the range of mountains spread; As in pure air aloft he bounds along, He sees in distant smoke the city throng; Conscious of freedom, scorns the smother'd train, The threat'ning driver, and the servile rein.

Survey the warlike horse! didst thou invest With thunder his robust distended chest?