JOB, CHAP. III. PARAPHRASED. Curse it let them who curse the passing day, And to the voice of mourning raise the lay ; Nor ever be the face of dawning seen ope Το its lustre on the enamel'd green; Like infant, who the light hath never seen; JOB, CHAP. III. PARAPHRASED. There the poor prisoners together rest, Who long for death, who lists not to their pray'r, Why then is grateful light bestow'd on man, ODE TO HORROR. Thou who with incessant gloom The voice of sympathy can cheer, Shall to your mournful plaint reply; The angry Furies hiss and howl; Or near the mountain's pendant brow Where rush-clad streams in cadent murmurs flow. EPODE. Who's he that with imploring eye Salutes the rosy dawning sky? The cock proclaims the morn in vain, ODE TO HORROR... For morning light can but return To bid the wretched wail and mourn: : While angry conscience stares on either side... STROPHE. To ease his sore distemper'd head, Sometimes upon the rocky bed Reclin'd he lies, to list the sound A while to lull his woe and care; ODE TO Horror. Ah, me! he starts, and views again The Libyan monster prance along the plain. Now from the oozing caves he flies, And to the city's tumults hies, Thinking to frolic life away, Be ever cheerful, ever gay: But tho' enwrapt in noise and smoke, They ne'er can heal his peace when broke; His fears arise, he sighs again For solitude on rural plain; Even there his wishes all conveen To bear him to his noise again. Thus tortur'd, rack'd, and sore opprest, He constant hunts, but never finds his rest, ANTISTROPHE. Oh exercise! then healing power, The toiling rustic's chiefest dower; |