Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp. To death's benumbing opium as my only cure: 630 Thence faintings, swoonings of despair, And sense of heav'n's desertion. I was his nursling once, and choice delight, His destin'd from the womb, Promis'd by heavenly message twice descending: Abstemious I grew up, and thriv'd amain ; Above the nerve of mortal arm, Against the uncircumcised, our enemies: 636 640 But now hath cast me off as never known, And to those cruel enemies, Whom I by his appointment had provok'd, The close of all my miseries, and the balm. 645 650 855 With studied argument, and much persuasion Lenient of grief and anxious thought: [sought, But with th' afflicted in his pangs their sound 680 Little prevails, or rather seems a tune Harsh and of dissonant mood from his complaint; Unless he feel within Some source of consolation from above, Secret refreshings, that repair his strength, God of our fathers, what is man! That thou towards him with hand so various, 665 669 Temper'st thy providence through his short course, Not ev'nly, as thou rul'st Th' angelic orders and inferior creatures mute, Irrational and brute. Nor do I name of men the common rout, That wand'ring loose about Grow up and perish, as the summer fly, 675 680 And people's safety, which in part they effect: 669 contrarious] Chaucer, Leg. of Dido, 435. Todd. 676 summer fly] Hen. VI. P. iii. act ii. sc. vi. Todd. Amidst their height of noon, Changest thy countenance and thy hand, with no regard Of highest favours past From thee on them, or them to thee of service. Nor only dost degrade them, or remit 085 To life obscur'd, which were a fair dismission, But throw'st them lower than thou didst exalt them high, Unseemly falls in human eye, Too grievous for the trespass or omission; Oft leav'st them to the hostile sword Of heathen and profane, their carcasses To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captív'd; 690 694 Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times, With sickness and disease thou bow'st them down, In crude old age: Though not disordinate, yet causeless suff'ring For oft alike both come to evil end. 700 So deal not with this once thy glorious champion, The image of thy strength, and mighty minister. What do I beg? how hast thou dealt already? 694 dogs] Hom. Il. i. 4. Newton. 700 crude] Premature, coming before its time, as 'Cruda funera in Statius. Jortin. Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn But who is this? what thing of sea or land? 710 Female of sex it seems, That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles Of Javan or Gadire, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, 710 who is this] 'Sed hic quis est, quem huc advenientem conspicor, Suam qui undantem chlamydem quassando facit?' Plauti Epid. act. iii. sc. 3. 715 714 a stately ship] This passage may be well illustrated by a quotation from a Sermon called Wilkinson's 'Merchant Royall,' preached at the nuptials of the Lord Hay, in 1607 4to. The text is from Proverbs, xxxi. 14. She is like a Merchants shippe, she bringeth her foode from afarre! "But of all qualities, a woman must not have one quality of a ship, and that is, too much rigging. Oh! what a wonder it is to see a ship under saile, with her tacklings and her masts, and her tops, and her top-gallants, with her upper deckes, and her nether deckes, and so bedeckt with her streamers, flags, and ensignes, and I know not what; yea, but a world of wonders it is to see a woman created in God's image, so miscreate oft times and deformed with her French, her Spanish, and her foolish fashions, that he that made her, when hee lookes upon her, shall hardlie know her, with her plumes, her fannes, and a silken vizard, with a ruffe like a saile, yea, a ruffe like a rainebow, with a feather in her cap, like a flag in her top, to tell, I think, which way the winde will blowe." p. 15. Courted by all the winds that hold them play, Her harbinger, a damsel train behind; SAMS. My wife! my traitress: let her not come [thee fix'd, near me. CHOR. Yet on she moves, now stands and eyes About t' have spoke, but now, with head declin'd, Like a fair flower surcharg'd with dew, she weeps, And words address'd seem into tears dissolv'd, Wetting the borders of her silken veil: But now again she makes address to speak. 730 DAL. With doubtful feet and wavering resolution I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson, Which to have merited, without excuse, I cannot but acknowledge; yet if tears 735 740 My penance hath not slacken'd, though my pardon 720 amber] Sylvester's Du Bartas (1621), p. 311. 728 Like] Virg. Æn. ix. 436. Hom. Il. viii. 306. Todd. |