Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FRAGMENT OF AN ORATORIO FROM THE BOOK OF JOB, by THOMAS CAMPBELL Poet's Biography First Line: Crushed by misfortune's yoke Last Line: And the thunder of the fight. Subject(s): Job (bible) | ||||||||
CRUSHED by misfortune's yoke, Job lamentably spoke: -- "My boundless curse be on The day that I was born; quenched be the star that shone Upon my natal morn. In the grave I long To shroud my breast; Where the wicked cease to wrong, And the weary are at rest." Then Eliphaz rebuked his wild despair: -- "What Heaven ordains, 'tis meet that man should bear. Lately, at midnight drear, A vision shook my bones with fear; A spirit passed before my face, And yet its form I could not trace; It stopped, it stood, it chilled my blood, The hair upon my flesh uprose With freezing dread! Deep silence reigned, and at its close I heard a voice that said -- 'Shall mortal man be more pure and just Than God, who made him from the dust? Hast thou not learned of old, how fleet Is the triumph of the hypocrite? -- How soon the wreath of joy grows wan On the brow of the ungodly man? By the fire of his conscience he perisheth In an unblown flame: The Earth demands his death, And the Heavens reveal his shame.'" JOB. Is this your consolation? Is it thus that ye condole With the depth of my desolation, And the anguish of my soul! But I will not cease to wail The bitterness of my bale. Man that is born of woman, Short and evil is his hour; He fleeth like a shadow, He fadeth like a flower. My days are past; my hope and trust Is but to moulder in the dust. CHORUS. Bow, mortal, bow, before thy God, Nor murmur at his chastening rod; Fragile being of earthly clay, Think on God's eternal sway! Hark! from the whirlwind forth Thy Maker speaks -- "Thou child of earth, Where wert thou when I laid Creation's corner-stone? When the sons of God rejoicing made, And the morning stars together sang and shone? Hadst thou power to bid above Heaven's constellations glow; Or shape the forms that live and move On Nature's face below? Hast thou given the horse his strength and pride? He paws the valley with nostril wide, He smells far off the battle; He neighs at the trumpet's sound -- And his speed devours the ground, As he sweeps to where the quivers rattle, And the spear and shield shine bright, 'Midst the shouting of the captains And the thunder of the fight. | Discover our poem explanations - click here!Other Poems of Interest...TEMPORALL SUCCESS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT BEELZEBUB AND JOB; EPIGRAM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE JOB'S SIN? by JOSEPHINE EATHER JOB, CHAPTER 3, PARAPHRASED by ROBERT FERGUSSON VIOLIN SONGS: THE TEMPLE OF GOD by GEORGE MACDONALD THE CRY OF JOB by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR JOB'S CONFESSION by EDWARD YOUNG (1683-1765) BOOK OF JOB, SELS. by RICHARD BLACKMORE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC by THOMAS CAMPBELL DOWNFALL OF POLAND [FALL OF WARSAW, 1794] by THOMAS CAMPBELL |
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