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To scourge us with due sense of its abuse,
The same astonishment will seize us all.
What then must pain us, would preserve us now.
Lorenzo! 'tis not yet too late: Lorenzo !
Seize wisdom, ere 'tis torment to be wise;
That is, seize wisdom, ere she seizes thee.
For what, my small philosopher! is hell?
'Tis nothing, but full knowledge of the truth,
When truth, resisted long, is sworn our foe;
And calls eternity to do her right.

Thus, darkness aiding intellectual light,
And sacred silence whisp'ring truths divine,
And truths divine converting pain to peace,
My song the midnight raven has outwing'd,
And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes,
Beyond the flaming limits of the world,
Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight
Of fancy, when our hearts remain below?
Virtue abounds in flatterers, and foes;

'Tis pride to praise her; penance to perform.
To more than words, to more than worth of tongue,
Lorenzo! rise, at this auspicious hour;

An hour, when heav'n's most intimate with man;
When, like a falling star, the ray divine
Glides swift into the bosom of the just;
And just are all, determined to reclaim ;
Which sets that title high, within thy reach.
Awake then thy Philander calls: Awake!
Thou, who shalt wake, when the creation sleeps;
When, like a taper, all these suns expire!
When time, like him of Gaza in his wrath,
Plucking the pillars that support the world,
In nature's ample ruins lies eutomb'd;
And midnight, universal midnight, reigns.

Samson, Judges, xvi. 29, 30.

END OF THE NIGHT THOUGHTS.

A PARAPHRASE

ON

PART OF THE BOOK OF JOB.

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.

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: 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, 1 flatter myself, find the reasons for the great liberties I have indulged myself in through the whole.

Longinus has a chapter on Interrogations, which shows that they contribute much to the sublime. The 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 exccute himself,

does from a common execution; for he that asks the guilty a proper question, makes him, in effect, pass sentence on himself.

THRICE happy Job long lived 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 peace, that mansion of repose,
Where rest and mortals are no longer foes;

Thrice happy Job,' &c.] 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 says, its 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, I 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.

Where counsellors are hush'd, and mighty kings
(O happy turn!) no more are wretched things.
His words were daring, and displeased his friends;
His conduct they reprove, and he defends;
And now they kindled into warm debate,
And sentiments opposed with equal heat;
Fix'd in opinion, both refused 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 ensued.-When, lo! Heav'n interposed,
And awfully the long contention closed.
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 thoughts against me from the dust,
And tells the world's Creator what is just?
Of late so braye, 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 the 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 in air;
When the bright morning stars in concert sung,
When heav'n's high arch with loud hosannahs rung,
When shouting sons of God the triumph crown'd,
And the wide concave thunder'd with the sound?

From the darkness broke

A dreadful voice, and thus th' Almighty spoke :"] 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 fictíon 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, Exodus, chap. xix. Ezekiel, chap. i, &c. Hence is he said to dwell in thick darkness; and have his way in the whirlwind.'

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

And can thy span of knowledge grasp the ball? Who heaved the mountain, which sublimely stands, And cast 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 basin for the floods provide; I chain 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 explored 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 the incumbent 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!

"Thus far thy floating tide,' &c.] 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 rale 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 concurrent argumcut, that Moses is author of the book of Job.

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