Classic Poem

They silenc'd, Job proceeds in his defence:
" As the Lord lives, Who knows my innocence,
Yet will not judge, but hath my soul depriv'd
Of all her joys, to misery long-liv'd.
While these my vital spirits shall receive
The food of air, and through my nostrils breathe,
No falsehood shall defile my lips with lies,
Or with a veil the face of truth disguise.
Nor will I wound my clear integrity
By yielding to your wrongs, but rather die.
Shall I myself betray, my strength refuse,
Desert my justice, and my truth accuse?
First may I sink by torments yet unknown,
That those which now I suffer may seem none.
Let such as hate me in their sins rejoice,
And surfeit with the pleasant baits of vice.
What hope hath the prevailing hypocritc,
When God shall chase his soul to endless night?
Will God relieve him in his agonies,
Or from the depth of sorrow hear his cries?
Will he in God delight, His aid implore
Incessantly, and His great Name adore?
O, be instructed by these characters
Of His impression, which my body bears!
I His more secret Judgments will disclose,
Which you have seen, yet desp'rately oppose.
This is the portion which the wicked hath,
He shall inherit the Almighty's wrath.
The lawless sword his children's blood shall shed,
Increas'd for slaughter, born to beg their bread.
Death shall the remnant in his dungeon keep;
No widow at his funeral shall weep.
Although he gather gold like heaps of dust,
The fuel of his luxury and lust,
His cabinets with change of garments fraught,
By silkworms spun, and Phrygian needles wrought,
Yet for the just reserv'd, who shall divide
His treasure, and divest him of his pride.
Though he his house of polish'd marble build,
With jasper floor'd, and carved cedar ceil'd,
Yet shall it ruin like the moth's frail cell,
Or sheds of reeds, which summer's heat repell.
He shall lie down, neglected, as unknown,
And, when he wakes, see nothing of his own.
Terrors, like swallowing deluges, shall fright,
Swept from his bed by tempests in the night.
Like scatter'd down by howling Eurus blown,
By rapid whirlwinds from his mansion thrown.
God shall transfix him with His winged dart,
Though he avoid Him like the flying hart;
Men shall pursue with merited disgrace,
Hiss, clap their hands, and from his country chase. "