English

O! I am sick of life, nor will control
My passion, but in bitterness of soul
Thus tear the air; what should Thy wrath incense
To punish him who knows not his offence?
Ah! dost Thou in oppression take delight?
Wilt Thou Thy servant fold in shades of night,
And smile on wicked counsels? dost Thou see
With eyes of flesh? is truth conceal'd from Thee?
What! are Thy days as frail as ours? or can
Thy years determine like the age of man?
That Thou shouldst my delinquencies exquire,
And with variety of tortures tire?

" THIS is a truth acknowledg'd, " Job replies,
" But O! what man is righteous in His eyes?
Who can " not guilty" plead before His throne,
Or of a thousand actions answer one?
God is in wisdom, as in pow'r, immense:
Who ever could contend without offence,
Offend unpunish'd? You who glory most
In your own strength, can you of conquest boast?
Cloud-touching mountains to new seats are borne,
From their foundations by His fury torn.
Th' affrighted earth in her distemper quakes,
When His Almighty Hand her pillars shakes.

Thus Job. Then Bildad of Suita said:
" Vain man, how long wilt thou thy God upbraid?
And like the roaring of a furious wind
Thus vent the wild distemper of thy mind?
Can He pervert His judgments? shall He swerve
From His own justice, and thy passions serve?
If He thy sons for their rebellion slew,
Death was the wages to their merit due.
O wouldst thou seek unto the Lord betimes,
With fervent prayer, and abstinence from crimes,
Nor with new follies spot thy innocence,
Then would He always watch in thy defence;

" THE life of man is a perpetual war,
In misery and sorrow circular.
He, a poor mercenary, serves for bread;
For all his travail, only cloth'd and fed.
The hireling longs to see the shades ascend,
That with the tedious day his toil might end,
And he his pay receive; but, ah! in vain
I months consume, yet never rest obtain.
The night charms not my cares; with sleepless eyes
My torments cry — When will the morning rise?
Why runs the chariot of the night so slow?
The day-star finds me tossing to and fro.

Then Job: " O were my suff'rings duly weigh'd,
Were they together in one balance laid!
The sands, whereon the rolling billows roar,
Were less in weight, and not in number more.
My words are swallow'd in these depths of woes,
While storms of sighs my silent griefs disclose.
God's arrows on my breast descend in show'rs,
There stick, and poison all my vital pow'rs.
'Tis He, Who arms against a mortal bears,
Subdues my strength, and chills my heart with fears.
Do hungry asses in fresh pastures bray,

Now try what patron can thy cause defend;
What saint wilt thou solicit, or what friend?
The storm of his own rage the fool confounds,
And envy's rankling sting th'imprudent wounds.
Oft have I seen him like a cedar spread
His ample root, and his ambitious head
With clouds invest; then, to th'amaze of all,
Plough up the earth with his prodigious fall.
His wand'ring orphans find no safe retreat,
But friendless suffer at the judgment-seat.
The greedy eat the harvest of their toil,

T EMANIAN Eliphas made this reply:
" O friend! be it no breach of love that I
With silence dare not justify a wrong;
For who in such a cause can curb his tongue?
Wilt thou, that wert to piety a guide,
That others hast with patience fortified,
Confirm'd the strong, giv'n sinews to the weak,
Now in the change of fortune faint, and break
Into offences; aggravate thy harms,
Forsake thy strength, and cast away thy arms?
Is this thy piety, thy confidence,
Thy hope, and life untainted with offence?

He , when excess of sorrow had giv'n way
To the relief of words, thus curs'd his day:
" O perish may the day which first gave light
To me, most wretched; and the fatal night
Of my conception! Let that day be bound
In clouds of pitch, nor walk th' etherial round.
Let God not write it in His roll of days,
Nor let the sun restore it with his rays.
Let death's dark shades involve, no light appear
But dreadful lightnings; its own horrors fear.
Be it the first of miseries to all,
Or last of life, defam'd with funeral.

In Hus, a land which near the sun's uprise,
And northern confines of Sabaea, lies,
A great example of perfection reign'd;
His name was Job, his soul with guilt unstain'd.
None with more zeal the Deity ador'd,
Affected virtue more, vice more abhorr'd.
Three beauteous daughters and sev'n hopeful boys
Renew'd his youth, and crown'd his nuptial joys.
Lord of much riches, which the use renowns,
Sev'n thousand broad-tail'd sheep graz'd on his downs;
Three thousand camels his rank pastures fed;

A GAIN , when all the radiant sons of light
Before His throne appear'd, Whose only sight
Beatitude infus'd; th' Inveterate Foe,
In fogs ascending from the depth below,
Profan'd their blest assembly. " What pretence, "
Said God, " hath brought thee hither, and from whence? "
" I come, " said he, " from compassing the earth,
Their travails seen who spring from human birth. "
Then God: " Hast thou My servant Job beheld?
Can his rare piety be parallel'd,
His justice equall'd? Can alluring vice,