English

Thus answer'd the incensed Naamathite:
" I had been silent, but thy words excite
My struggling thoughts to vindicate the wrong
Cast on our zeal by thy reproachful tongue.
This is a truth which with the world began,
Since earth was first inhabited by man,
Sin's triumph in swift misery concludes,
And flatt'ring joy the hypocrite deludes.
Although his excellence to heav'n aspire,
Though radiant beams his shining brows attire,
He, as his dung, shall perish on the ground,
Nor shall th' impression of his steps be found,

" HOW long, " said Job, " will you with bitter words
Thus wound my soul, your tongues more sharp than swords?
Ten times have you aspersions on me thrown;
Yourselves as strangers without blushing shown.
If I have sinn'd, my sins with me remain,
And I alone the punishment sustain.
It is in human cruelty in you
Thus to insult, and his reproach pursue
Whom God's own Hand hath cast unto the ground,
And in a labyrinth of sorrow wound.
Unheard are my complaints, my cries the wind
Drives through the air, my wrongs no judgment find.

To whom thus Bildad: " When wilt thou forbear
To clamour, and afford a patient ear?
Dost thou as beasts thy ancient friends despise?
Are we so vile and trivial in thine eyes?
O miserable man, by thy own rage
In pieces torn, can fury grief assuage?
Will God for thee the govern'd earth forsake,
His purpose change, and rocks asunder shake?
He shall their light extinguish who decline
From virtue's paths, their sparks shall cease to shine.
The wicked shall be compassed about
With darkness, and his oilless lamp fly out.

" MY spirits are infected, and my tomb
Yawns to devour me; my last days are come.
Yet you with bitter scorn my pangs increase,
Nor, ah! will suffer me to die in peace.
What advocate will take your cause in hand,
And for you at the high tribunal stand,
Since God your erring souls deprives of sense,
Nor will exalt you in your own defence?
His children shall their days in sorrow end,
Whose tongue with flattery deludes his friend.
I to the vulgar am become a jest,
Esteemed as a minstrel at a feast;

Then Job: " How long wilt thou thus vex mine ears!
You all are miserable comforters.
Shall this vain wind of words, ah! never end?
Why Eliphaz should'st thou afflict thy friend?
Were you so lost in grief, would I thus speak?
Such bruised hearts with harsh invectives break?
Would I accumulate your miseries
With scorn, and draw new rivers from your eyes?
O no, my language should your passions calm,
My words should drop into your wounds like balm.
But, O, my frantic sorrow finds no ease!

Job paused: to whom the Temanite replies:
" Can man such follies utter and be wise,
Which bluster from the tempest of thy mind,
As if thy breast enclos'd the eastern wind?
Wilt thou thy idle rage by reason prove,
Or speak those thoughts which have no pow'r to move?
Thou from thy rebel heart hast God exil'd,
Kept back thy prayers, His sacred truth revil'd.
Thy lips declare thy own impiety,
Accuse of fraud, condemn thee, and not I.
Art thou the first of mortals? Wert thou made
Before the hills their lofty brows display'd?

Ah ! few, and full of sorrow, are the days
Of man from woman sprung! His life decays
Like that frail flow'r, which with the sun's uprise
Her bud unfolds, and with the ev'ning dies.
He like an empty shadow glides away,
And all his life is but a winter's day.
Wilt Thou Thine eye upon a vapour bend,
Or with so weak an opposite contend?
Who can a pure and crystal current bring
From such a muddy and polluted spring?
O, since his days are number'd, since Thou hast
Prescrib'd him bounds that are not to be pass'd,

This by mine eyes and ears have I convey'd
Down to my heart, and in that closet laid.
Need I in depth of knowledge yield to you?
Is not as much to my discretion due?
O that th' All-seeing Judge, Who cannot err,
Would hear me plead, and with a wretch confer!
You corrosives into my wounds distill;
And ignorant artists, with your physic kill.
Ah! shame you not to vent such forgeries?
Seal up your lips and be in silence wise.
And since you are by far more fit to hear,
Than to instruct, afford my tongue an ear.

To whom thus Job: " You are the only wise,
And when you die, the fame of wisdom dies.
Though passion be a fool, though you profess
Yourselves such sages, yet know I no less,
Nor am to you inferior. What blind soul
Could this not see? 'Tis easy to control.
My sad example shows, how those whose cries
Ev'n God regards, their scoffing friends despise.
He that is wretched, though in life a saint,
Becomes a scorn: this is an old complaint.
Those who grow old in fluency and ease,
When they from shore behold him toss'd on seas,

Thus Zophar with acerbity replied:
" Think'st thou by talking to be justified?
Or shall these wild distempers of thy mind,
This tempest of thy tongue, thus rave, and find
No opposition? Shall we guilty be
Of thy untruths, in not reproving thee?
Nor dye thy cheeks in blushes, for the scorn
Thou throw'st on us, till now with patience borne?
Hast thou not said to God, " My heart's upright,
My doctrine pure, I blameless in Thy sight?"
O that He would be pleased to reply,
And take the veil from thy hypocrisy!