JOB:

Many such things have I heard before.

Stinging comforters are ye all!

Shall idle words have an end?

What p.r.i.c.ks thee that thou answerest?

CXLIV

I, too, could discourse as ye do, If your souls were in my soul's stead.

I would inspirit you with my mouth, Nor would I grudge the moving of my lips.

CXLV

But he hath so jaded me that I am benumbed; His whole host[222] hath seized me.

His wrath hackles me and pursues me, He gnashes upon me with his teeth.

CXLVI

The arrows of his myriads have stricken me, He whets his sword, fixing his eyes upon me.

They smite me on the cheek outrageously, They ma.s.s themselves together against me.

CXLVII

G.o.d hath turned me over to the unG.o.dly, And delivered me into the hands of the wicked.

I was at ease, but he clove me asunder, He throttled me and shook me to pieces.

CXLVIII

He sets me up for his target; His archers compa.s.s me round about; He rives my reins asunder, and spareth not, He poureth out my gall upon the ground.

CXLIX

With breach upon breach he breaketh me, He rusheth upon me like a warrior; Sackcloth and ashes cover me, And my horn has been laid in the dust.

CL

My face is aglow with weeping And darkness abides on my eyelids; Though on my hands there is no evil, And my prayer is pure!

CLI

Oh earth! cover not thou my blood!

And let my cry find no resting-place!

Even now behold my witness is in heaven, And my voucher is on high.

CLII

My friends laugh me wantonly to scorn; Mine eye poureth tears unto G.o.d.

Let him adjudge between man and G.o.d, And between man and his fellow.

CLIII

Soon will the wailing-women come, And I go the way I shall not return.

My spirit is spent, the grave is ready for me Truly I am scoffed at.

CLIV

Hold still my pledge in thy keeping, Who then will be my voucher?[223]

He yielded his friends as a prey, And the eyes of his children must shrivel up.

CLV

He hath made me a by-word of the peoples, And they spit into my face.

My eye is dim by dint of sorrow, And all my members are as a shadow.

CLVI

At this the upright are appalled, And the just bridles up against the impious.

But the righteous holds on his way, And the clean-handed waxeth ever stronger.

CLVII

But as for you all--do ye return, For I discern not one wise man among you.

My days, my thoughts have pa.s.sed away; My heart's desires are cut asunder.

CLVIII

If I still hope, it is for my house--the tomb.

I have made my bed in the darkness.

I have said unto the grave, "My Mother,"

And to the maggot, "Sister mine."

CLIX

And my hope--where is it now?

My bliss--who shall behold it?[224]

They go down to the bars of the pit, When our rest together is in the dust.

CLX

BILDAD:

When wilt thou make an end of words?

Reflect, and then let us speak!

Wherefore are we counted as beasts?

Deemed silenced in thy sight?

CLXI