Job, Chapter 29

Iob paus'd; forthwith these words his sigh's pursue:
O that those happy Dayes would now renew;
When God beneath his shield my safety plac'd!
When his cleare lamp a sacred Splendor cast
About my Browes? by whose directing light
I trod securely through the Shades of Night?
That now I had what I in youth possest,
When he my Mansion with his presence blest!
When those who from my veines deriv'd their blood,
Like springing Lawrels round about me stood!
When Butter washt my Steps, when Streames of oyle
Gusht from the Rocks, and Plenty free from toyle!
When through the gazing Streets I past in State
To my Tribunall, in the Cities Gate!
The blushing Youth their vertuous awe disclose,
And from their Seats the reverend Elders rose.
Attentive Princes such a silence kept,
As if their Soules had in their Bodies slept.
Th'astonish't Nobles stood like men that were
Depriv'd of all their Sences but the eare.
All eares that heard, my equall Justice prais'd:
All eyes that saw, their Lids with wonder rais'd.
I from Oppressors did the Poore defend;
The Fatherlesse, and such as had no friend.
Those sav'd, whom wicked Power sought to destroy:
And made the widowes heart to spring with joy.
I put on Truth: shee cloth'd me with renowne:
My Justice was to me a precious Crowne.
Eyes lent I to the blind; feet to the Lame:
A Father to the Comfortlesse became.
I search't what from my knowledge was conceal'd:
And clouded Truth by her owne light reveal'd.
Oft with my Scepter brake the Lyons jawes
And snatcht the prey out of his armed pawes.
Then said; my Dayes shall as the Sand increase:
And I in my owne nest shall dye in peace.
My Root was by the living water spred:
And Night her dew upon my Branches shed.
My Glories Crescent to a Circle grew:
And I my Bow with doubled vigor drew.
When I but spake, they hung upon my looke:
And as an Oracle my Counsell tooke.
None spake but I; each his owne Judgement feares:
My words like honey dropt into their eares;
Which readily with joy they entertaine,
As Yawning Earth devoures the latter Raine.
Although I smil'd, none would my thoughts suspect:
Nor on my Mirth a frowning looke reflect:
But trod the path which I their Chiefe propos'd.
I King-like sate, with armed troopes inclos'd:
Gave timely Comforts to the Soule that mourn'd;
Rais'd from the Dust, and teares to Laughter turn'd.