There exercise all his fierce accidents,
And on her pureft spirits prey,

As on entrails, joints and limbs

With anfwerable pains, but more intense,
Though void of corporal sense.

My griefs not only pain me

As a lingring disease,

But finding no redress, ferment and rage,

Nor less than wounds immedicable

Rankle, and fefter, and gangreen,

To black mortification.

Thoughts my Tormenters arm'd with deadly ftings Mangle my apprehensive tendereft parts,

Exafperate, exulcerate, and raife:

Dire inflammation which no cooling herb
Or medicinal liquor can affwage.
Nor breath of Vernal Air from fnowy Alp.
Sleep hath forfook and giv'n me o'er

To death's benumming Opium as my only cure,
Thence faintings, fwoonings of defpair,

And fenfe of Heav'ns defertion...

I was his nurfling once, and choice delight, His deftin'd from the womb,

Pro

Promis'd by Heav'nly meffage twice defcending.

Under his special eye

Abstemious I grew up and thriv'd amain;

He led me on to mightiest deeds

Above the nerve of mortal arm

Against the uncircumcis'd, our enemies,
But now hath caft me off as never known,
And to thofe cruel enemies,

Whom I by his appointment had provok'd,
Left me all helpless with th' irreparable lofs
Of fight, refery'd alive to be repeated
The subject of their cruelty or scorn.
Nor am I in the lift of them that hope;
Hopeless are all my evils, all remedilefs;
This one Prayer yet remains, might I be heard,
No long petition, speedy death,

The close of all my miseries, and the balm.
Chor. Many are the Sayings of the Wife
In ancient and in modern books enroll'd;
Extolling Patience as the trueft fortitude;
And to the bearing well of all calamities,
All chances incident to man's frail life.
Confolatories writ

With study'd argument, and much perfuafion fought Lenient of grief and anxious thought,

But to th' afflicted in his pangs their found

Little prevails, or rather feems a tune,

Harsh, and of diffonant mood from his complaint,

Unless he feel within

Some fource of confolation from above ;

Secret refreshings, that repair his ftrength,
And fainting spirits uphold.

God of our Fathers, what is man!

That thou towards him with hand fo various,

Or might I fay contrarious,

Temper'ft thy providence through his fhort course, Not ev'nly, as thou rul❜st

The Angelick orders and inferior creatures mute,

Irrational and brute.

Nor do I name of men the common rout,

That wandring loose about,

Grow up and perish, as the fummer flie,
Heads without name no more remembred,
But fuch as thou haft folemnly elected,
With gifts and graces eminently adorn'd,
To fome great work, thy glory,

i

And

And peoples safety, which in part they effect:
Yet toward these thus dignify'd, thou oft

Amidst their height of noon,

[gard

Changest thy countenance, and thy hand with no re

Of highest favours past

From thee on them, or them to thee of service.

Nor only doft degrade them, or remit

To life obfcur'd, which were a fair difmiffion,

But throw'ft them lower than thou didst exalt them
Unfeemly falls in human eye,

Too grievous for the trefpafs or omiffion,
Oft leav'ft them to the hoftile fword

Of Heathen and prophane, their Carcaffes
To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captiv'd:

[high,

Or to th' unjust tribunals, under change of times, And condemnation of th❜ingateful multitude.

If these they 'scape, perhaps in poverty

With fickness and disease thou bow'ft them down, Painful diseases and deform'd,

In crude old age:

Though not difordinate, yet cauflefs fuff'ring
The punishment of diffolute days, in fine,

Juft or unjust, alike seem miferable,

For oft alike, both come to evil end.

So deal not with this once thy glorious Champion, The Image of thy ftrength and mighty Minifter. What do I beg? how haft thou dealt already? Behold him in bis state calamitous, and turn

His labours, for thou canft, to peaceful end.
But who is this, what thing of Sea or Land?
Female of fex it seems,

That fo bedeckt, ornate, and gay,

Comes this way failing

Like a stately Ship

Of Tarfus, bound for th❜Ifles

Of Javan or Gadier

With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,

Sails fill'd, and streamers waving,

Courted by all the winds that hold them play,
An Amber scent of odorous perfume

Her harbinger, a damfel train behind

Some rich Philiftian Matron fhe may feem,

And now at nearer view, no other certain

Than Dalila thy Wife.

Samf. My Wife, my Trayt'refs, let her not come

[near me.

Chor.