Classic Poem

Wilt thou for the old lion hunt, or fill
His hungry whelps, and for the killer kill?
When couch'd in dreadful dens, when closely they
Lurk in the covert to surprise their prey?
Who feeds the ravens when their young ones cry
To God for food, and through the deserts fly?
Know'st thou when savage goats do teem among
The craggy rocks? when hinds produce their young?
Canst thou their reck'nings keep, the time compute
When their swoll'n bellies shall enlarge their fruit?
Without a midwife these their throes sustain,
And bowing, bring their issue forth with pain.
They at full udders suck, grow strong with corn,
Depart, and never to their dams return.
Who sent forth the wild ass to live at large,
Whom neither halter binds nor burthens charge,
Inhabiting the barren wilderness
And rocky caves, remov'd from man's access?
He from the many-peopled city flies,
Contemns their labours, and the drivers' cries:
The mountains are his walks; who wand'ring feeds
On slowly-springing herbs and ranker weeds.
Will the fierce unicorn thy voice obey,
Stand at the crib, and feed upon the hay?
Or to the servile yoke his freedom yield,
Plough up the glebe, and harrow the rough field?
Wilt thou upon his ready strength rely?
Will he sustain thee with his industry?
Bring home thy harvest, to thy will submit,
Put off his fierceness, and receive the bit?
The peacock, not at thy command, assumes
His glorious train; nor estrich her rare plumes.
She drops her eggs upon the naked land,
And wraps them in a bed of hatching sand,
Exposed to the wand'ring traveller,
And feet of beasts, which those wild deserts rear.
She as a step-mother betrays her own.
Left without care, and presently unknown;
By God depriv'd of that intelligence
Which nature gives; of all most void of sense.
Her feet the nimble rider leave behind,
And, when she spreads her sails, out-strip the wind.
Hast thou with strength indu'd the gen'rous horse,
His neck with thunder arm'd, his breast with force?
Him canst thou as a grasshopper affright,
Who from his nostrils throws a dreadful light,
Exults in his own courage, proudly bounds,
With trampling hoofs the sounding centre wounds,
Breaks through the order'd ranks with eyes that burn!
Nor from the battle-axe or sword will turn.
The rattling quiver, nor the glitt'ring spear,
Or dazzling shield, can daunt his heart with fear.
Through rage and fierceness he devours the ground,
Nor in his fury hears the trumpet sound.
Far off the battle smells, like thunder neighs,
Loud shouts and dying groans his courage raise.
Does the wild haggard tow'r into the sky,
And to the south by thy direction fly?
Or eagle in her gyres the clouds embrace,
And on the highest cliff her eyrie place?
She dwells among the rocks, on ev'ry side
With broken mountains strongly fortified;
From thence what ever can be seen surveys,
And, stooping, on the slaughter'd quarry preys:
From wounds her eaglets suck the reeking blood;
And all-devasting war provides her food.
Since such My pow'r, wilt thou with Me contend?
Instruct thy Maker, and thy fault defend?
Now answer thou that dar'st thy God upbraid. "
Then humbled Job, transfix'd with sorrow, said:
" Can one so vile to such a truth reply?
Too long my grief hath rav'd; no more will I
Pursue a folly, and my sin extend,
But curb my tongue, so ready to offend. "