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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TEMPORALL SUCCESS, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT 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! 2 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. 3 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. 4 Befooled & inchanted, They Conclude Job's Virtu's lay In's Children, Servants, Cattell; Thus, alas, Uncertain Goods for certain Goodnes pass. 5 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. 6 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. 7 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? 8 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? 9 Then, Holy Mahomet, say I, Blest in thy Heresie: Then the Odrysian Moons right heavnly Hornes The conquerd Crosses Arms most justly scorns. 10 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. 11 Then is ye noble Gold a poor And contemtible Ore, Bycause it must be tri'd & torturd by The Fornace's incensed Tyrannie. 12 But lazie Lead, or glaring Brass, Bycause they never pass The trying Rules of such Severitie, For best of Metalls must admitted be. 13 Then ye fair Roses blushing Hue Unto it self is due Being a wretched shamefull Shrub, bycause The persecuting horn her Body claws. 14 But Heavn & Shame forbid, that They By such false weights should weigh Whose Master unto generous Virtue chains Ten thousand Persecutions & Pains. 15 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. 16 But He with Diet course & spare His Champions doth prepare, That sound & hardie grown, they stoutlier may His battels fight, & surer win the day. 17 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. 18 Then, whatsoever Blessings were Bated to Virtue heer, JESUS shall with immortall Use repay; Nor will his Saints think much till then to stay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I HAVE BEEN A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND' by RITA DOVE ON 'EVE TEMPTED BY THE SERPENT' BY DEFENDENTE FERRARI by ROBERT PINSKY ALL THINGS CAN TEMPT ME by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SOUL AND BODY by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE NEW SIRENS: A PALINODE by MATTHEW ARNOLD |
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