Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TEMPORALL SUCCESS, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT

Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TEMPORALL SUCCESS, by                
First Line: Foule beauteous witch, whose painted face
Last Line: Nor will his saints think much till then to stay.
Subject(s): Bible; Job (bible); Temptation

FOULE beauteous Witch, whose painted face
Inchanteth everie place,
How many more Admirers wait on Thee
Then upon Virtu's brave integritie!


Let adverse Fortunes but conspire
And their shortwinded ire
Blow upon noble Job, ye world will swear
The Man's condemned, & Gods breath blew there.


With Swains whoe nothing higher know
Then the dull ground they plow,
Ev'n Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar, men of high
And famous learning, own this Foolerie.


Befooled & inchanted, They
Conclude Job's Virtu's lay
In's Children, Servants, Cattell; Thus, alas,
Uncertain Goods for certain Goodnes pass.


The sage substantiall Jews were all
Caught in this sottish Thrall,
And those that sate in Moses's reverend Chair
Amidst their Gravitie thus Childish were.


Yf they great JESUS nayled see
To his tormenting Tree,
His Case proclaims his equall guilt, say They,
And strait they vote Him a meer Castaway.


Was flourishing Dives then (although
His whole estate be now
Not worth one Drop of Water,) so sublime
A Saint, bycause in Fullnes He did swimm?


And was poor Lazarus a Wight
Plung'd in a cursed plight,
Bycause in's Flesh as rotten as in's Raggs,
And dressed by no Surgeons but the Doggs?


Then, Holy Mahomet, say I,
Blest in thy Heresie:
Then the Odrysian Moons right heavnly Hornes
The conquerd Crosses Arms most justly scorns.


Then at the Alcorans brave feet
Our noble Gospell must submit;
Then are the Turks Heavns Darlings, & the Grand
Seignor henceforth for Prince of Saints must stand.


Then is ye noble Gold a poor
And contemtible Ore,
Bycause it must be tri'd & torturd by
The Fornace's incensed Tyrannie.


But lazie Lead, or glaring Brass,
Bycause they never pass
The trying Rules of such Severitie,
For best of Metalls must admitted be.


Then ye fair Roses blushing Hue
Unto it self is due
Being a wretched shamefull Shrub, bycause
The persecuting horn her Body claws.


But Heavn & Shame forbid, that They
By such false weights should weigh
Whose Master unto generous Virtue chains
Ten thousand Persecutions & Pains.


Those temporall Blessings He can well
Betemm on Sonns of Hell;
Blessings which never bless, but when they be
Tam'd & in order kept by Pietie.


But He with Diet course & spare
His Champions doth prepare,
That sound & hardie grown, they stoutlier may
His battels fight, & surer win the day.


That Day, whose Morning is not drest
In our Aurora's east,
But then shall spring, & shine forever, when
Phebus shall Fall no more to Rise agen.


Then, whatsoever Blessings were
Bated to Virtue heer,
JESUS shall with immortall Use repay;
Nor will his Saints think much till then to stay.

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