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But Job replied: a nobler spirit seek,

Thy words are such as foolish women speak:

For only good shall we receive from God?

And not the evil from His chast'ning rod?

In all this Job no words impatient flung,

Nor did he sin by using once his tongue.

When Job's companions all this evil heard,

They quickly came, with deep compassion stirred.

The names they bore the sacred muse has sung,

And told the countries whence their races sprung;

Eliphaz ruled, as ancient history writes,

The mighty kingdom of the Temanites;

Bildad is said to be the famous king,

That did from Shuah's ancient country spring;

And Zophar, king of Na-amah was known,

A city which in Joshua is shown.

For they had each appointment made to go,

And mourn with him, and comfort sweet bestow.

But when afar they lifted up their eyes,

And knew him not, in sorrow's deep disguise;

Their silent grief no longer could be kept,

But loud their voice they lifted up and wept.

They rent their mantles into mournful shreds,

And sprinkled dust upon their solemn heads.

Seven days and nights, in silence most profound,

They sat with Job upon the naked ground.

And none to him a word of comfort spoke,

For now, with grief, they saw his heart was broke. CHAPTER II.

JOB'S FIRST SPEECH HIS COMPLAINT.

This chapter contains the bitter lamentation of Job, and the argument of the poem. Under a deep sense of his own sincerity and uprightness, and of his great calamities, he curses his day, in language that is vehement, rash, and often irreverent." The cause of these bitter and violent imprecations against the day of his birth, he alleges to be because it did not prevent his being born into the world; for then he declares he should have rested with kings, and princes. He declares that his sufferings have not come upon him unexpectedly; that in his prosperity, he had not felt secure.

But Job, at length, the solemn silence broke,
And dreadful curses on his day he spoke.
Perish the day, so dreadful and forlorn,
Wherein myself in sorrow first was born;
Perish the night, in darkness unretrieved,
That shouted forth: a man-child is conceived.
And let that day be darkness deep and lone,
~not God regard it from His heavenly throne;
Let not the light, refulgent and divine,
In dazzling glory ever on it shine;
Let darkness dense upon that day remain,
And shades of death its beaming luster stain;
Let clouds on clouds, pavilioned on it, dwell,
And tents of darkness, big with fury, swell;

Let blackness, caused by sorrow's burning ray,

And blasts of noontide, terrify that day;

Let darkness seize, and rayless gloom enshroud,

That starless night, with storm and tempest-cloud;

Let not that night among.the days appear,

Of any future, or revolving year;

Let not the months complete their annual sum,

By letting that among their number come;

But let that night in barrenness abound,

And, solitary, with itself be found;

Let not the crowing cock, nor joyful voice,

Nor mirthful revelry, therein rejoice;

Let those accurse it, who, with magic, can,

And skillful are to rouse leviathan;

Let all the stars that in its twilight dwell,

Be darker far than blackest shades of hell;

With eyes of darkness, let it look for light,

But sad and weary, nothing have but night;

With anxious longing, let it watch forlorn,

Nor see the eyelids of the rosy morn;

Because alas! it hindered not my doom,

1ST or shut the doors before my mother's womb;

Nor hid the sorrow which around me lies,

With death and darkness from my aged eyes.

Why found I not an infant's quiet tomb?

Why died I not when I forsook the womb?

Why did the knees anticipate my birth?

And thus preserve me from the dreamless earth?

Or why the breasts prevent this goodly luck?
By giving me their liquid food to suek?
For now should I, with balmy quiet blessed,
Lie down to sleep, and always be at rest;
With kings and counselors, in wisdom skilled.
That des'late places for themselves did build 5
Or mighty princes, rich in countless gold,
And houses, filled with silver stores untold;
Or like a hidden, and untimely birth,
I had not been a wretched child of earth;
Like still-born infants, destitute of sight,
Whose rayless eyes have never seen the light.
The wicked there from all their troubl'mg cease?
And there the weary sweetly rest in peace;
The prisoners too in freedom all rejoice,
Nor hear again the proud, oppressor's voice;
The small and great together there we see,
And from his master ev'ry slave is free.
Then why should God the light of life bestowf
On one that lives in misery, and woe?
Or being give, by his supreme control,
To one that's bitter in his inmost soul?
That longs for death upon his restless cot,
And waiteth for it, yet it cometh not?
That prayeth oft, and digs to find it more,
Than treasures hidden on the distant shore?
Exulting greatly, like the weary slave,
Exceeding glad, when he can find the grave*

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