II.

If he should mark my words and thoughts

with strict inquiring eyes, Could I for one of thousand faults the least excuse devise?

Strong is his arm, his heart is wise;
who dares with him contend?
Or who that tries th' unequal strife,
shall prosper in the end?

IV

He makes the mountains feel his wrath,
and their old seats forsake;
The trembling earth deserts her place,
and all her pillars shake.

V.

He bids the sun forbear to rise; th' obedient sun forbears:

His hand with sackcloth spreads the skies, and seals up all the stars.

VI.

He walks upon the raging sea;

flies on the stormy wind;

None can explore his wond'rous way,

or his dark footsteps find.

VIII.

JOB, xiv. 1,-15.

I.

FEW are thy days, and full of wo,

O man, of woman born!

Thy doom is written, " Dost thou art, " and shalt to dust return."

Behold the emblem of thy state in flow'rs that bloom and die; Or in the shadow's fleeting form, that mocks the gazer's eye.

III.

Guilty and frail, how shalt thou stand before thy sov'reign Lord? Can troubled and polluted springs a hallow'd stream afford?

IV.

Determin❜d are the days that fly successive o'er thy head;

The number'd hour is on the wing that lays thee with the dead.

V.

Great God! afflict not in thy wrath the short allotted span,

That bounds the few and weary days of pilgrimage to man.

VI.

All nature dies, and lives again: the flow'r that paints the field,

The trees that crown the mountain's brow, and boughs and blossoms yield,

VII.

Resign the honours of their form at winter's stormy blast,

And leave the naked leafless plain a desolated waste.

VII.

Yet soon reviving plants and flow'rs anew shall deck the plain; The woods shall hear the voice of Spring, and flourish green again.

IX.

But man forsakes this earthly scene,

ah! never to return:

Shall any following spring revive

-the ashes of the urn?

X.

The mighty flood that rolls along its torrents to the main,

Can ne'er recall its waters lost from that abyss again.

XI.

So days, and years, and ages past,
descending down to night,
Can henceforth never more return
back to the gates of light

XII.

And man, when laid in lonesome grave, shall sleep in Death's dark gloom, Until th' eternal morning wake

the slumbers of the tomb.

XIII.

may the grave become to me
the bed of peaceful rest,

Whence I shall gladly rise at length,

and mingle with the blest!

XIV.

Cheer'd by this hope, with patient mind I'll wait Heav'n's high decree,

Till the appointed period come when death shall set me free.

B

IX.

JOB, xxvi. 6. to the end.

I.

WHO can resist th' almighty arm

that made the starry sky? Or who elude the certain glance of God's all-seeing eye?

II.

From him no cov❜ring veils our crimes

hell opens to his sight;

And all destruction's secret snares lie full disclos'd in light.

Firm on the boundless void of space
he poiz'd the steady pole;
And in the circle of his clouds
bade secret waters roll.

IV.

While nature's universal frame its Maker's pow'r reveals,

His throne, remote from mortal eyes, an awful cloud conceals.