There was a certain man very prosperous in the land of the Arabians, called Ausitis long ago, a food of the field. There a certain man dwelt in a house, both good and great, and his famous and far-renowned name was Job. Who revered justice, since his mind was god-fearing, and he turned aside from evil, and guarded all things that are right.

To this man also ten children were born in his halls: seven were sons, and three were fair-haired daughters.

He had countless cattle, and high-ridged camels — three thousand females with young, pastured for him on the mountains — and seven thousand sheep, and again fifty yoke of broad-browed oxen, and fifty donkeys, and many possessions. For truly his livelihood was beyond telling. Not for any men, heroes, who were the most blessed and dwelt at the risings of the shining Sun, was there so great a number.

And his sons feasted on countless meats and sweet wine. Each day in turn, in his own house, each feasted, and by three he called his brothers to the feast. Thus they all day long (for they had abundance) welcomed one another, and feasted in the halls, drinking and eating, taking turns among their houses.

But when the fair-tressed Dawn had brought to fulfillment all the days of the honey-sweet feast, and the seasons had turned round about, straightway he, as a father purifies his banqueting sons, all according to due order, and at the same time as the morning appeared he would offer sacrifices and choice hecatombs to the Immortal, in case anyone had overstepped and sinned, or spoken evil of God with the tongue's folly of his mind. As many children as he had, so many fair sacrifices would he offer. Thus he would do continually throughout. For he himself knows what kinds of transgressions young men's deeds become. For swifter is the mind, and subtle is the counsel in all deeds, but most of all in the hour of the feast. For wine sets even a very prudent man to singing, and it sends forth some word which is better left unspoken.

And there was a day when the Angels came before God. And they stood beside their Father in a throng, and among them came Satan too, weaving deadly counsels in his mind — the wretch, the mighty worker, who perished not though he did lawless deeds — lion-hearted, grim, a wrought evil for mankind.

And when the Father of men and gods perceived him, then he addressed him, spoke a word, and called him out: "O Satan, whence do you come?" But the man-hater answered: 'Having wandered much and greatly, and having traveled over the whole earth, wandering much and being much astray, I have come.'

And the Father in turn addressed him and questioned him with a word: 'Wretch, did you ever notice my servant Job?' Who is dearest to me, and I honor him as surpassing others, since surely no one of earth-dwelling men is like him. He who accomplished justice, since his mind is god-fearing, turned away from evil, and guarded all things that are ordained.

Answering him, the crafty Demon spoke, the destroyer Satan, who knows baneful counsels: Is it then in vain and for nothing that Job reveres God?

Did you not set a fence around his well-shaded house on every side, and around his possessions, and around that man himself? By your kindly dispositions his works flow fair, and his prosperity and wealth increase in the land.

But come now, touch his possessions a little, and then, blundering in speech, he will greatly outrage you to your face, mocking, and looking you in the eye he will speak with shameful words. So he spoke; the liar, trusting in his own chosen wits.

And answering him, God of the crooked counsel spoke: Now, look, all that he had has been turned over into your hands; But only keep your own heavy hands off him. So then the Father spoke, and laid a mighty word upon him. Satan went out to be there, and in his mind he devised evil deeds.

While Job's sons and daughters together, all of them in the halls of their eldest brother, were feasting, and their heart lacked nothing of the equal feast;

On that day a certain wretched messenger came to Job, shedding hot tears, and he spoke with a grievous message: While the oxen were being yoked, and the donkeys grazing nearby, the Sabeans rushed upon them and carried them off, and they killed the plowmen with the sharp bronze;

I alone escaped, and I came to you as a wretched messenger.

Not yet had the whole word been spoken, when another messenger stood in the doorways, saying that a fire sent from God, coming down from heaven, had utterly burned up both the sheep and the shepherds themselves, with the baleful fury of the thunderer; I alone escaped, and I came to you as a grievous messenger.

Not yet had the whole word been spoken, when another came in, bursting into tears, and lamenting he spoke a word: the Chaldeans drew up their ranks in three divisions, and swiftly rushing in they carried off the camels, and again they slew the servants, the herdsmen, with the sharp bronze. I alone escaped, and I came to you as a grievous messenger.

Not yet had the whole word been spoken, when Fourth stood near (for always evil was joined to evil; As when the long waves of the sea are poured one upon another in quick succession, first one and then another) He shed hot tears, and spoke a lamenting word: Ah me, blameless Job, nurtured of Zeus, surely you shall hear of a grievous message, which ought never to have come to be. For as long as your sons and well-girded daughters were seated in the halls of their eldest brother, delighting their dear heart with food and wine—

Then at that moment a fierce storm-wind of the wind came rushing in and, darting from the desert, struck the great high-roofed house; And the force of the wind shattered its joints and sides from the foundation; and it fell upon the young men, and they perished; I alone escaped, and I came to you as a grievous messenger.

So he spoke. And a black cloud of grief covered him. He sprang up with a wail, and tore his great purple mantle about his breast, and sheared off his dear hair, and fell down in the dust like one breathing his last. For a long while speechlessness at words seized him, and his two eyes were filled with tears, and his voice was held back, abundant. At last, having breathed again, he began a vehement lament, and at the same time, mourning, he spoke a god-fearing word.

Ah, woe is me, wretched man! A mother bore me naked. And she brought me forth into the light, and I saw the rays of the sun; And naked I shall go back again beneath the belly of the earth. God gave, and He took away, since His might is greatest; Therefore may His glorious name be blessed forever.

Thus he spoke in piety, and he did not err in his words, nor did he reproach God with the follies of his mind.

And again there was a day when all the Angels came together before the Immortal One, and they gathered together, and Satan was with them too, brooding on evil in his heart.

And the Father questioned him, and shook great Olympus; O Satan, from where have you come, you wretch? And what is your business? And he, the man-hater, answered him with guile: 'I have wandered much, and I have traveled over the whole earth, and I have seen the cities of many men, and I have come to know their mind;' But now I also come to the sacred city of the immortals.

Then the Olympian addressed him again in a stormy voice: 'Do you know that, wandering much through the cities, you have come here?' But come, tell me this, and recount accurately: did you, having observed, see my clear blameless man Job? He who honors me most of men that walk upon the earth, and shuns transgression, and knows in his heart what is right, and clings fast to righteousness, though grieving, and suffers grievous pains through your evil plots.

Then the crafty-minded Demon, the destroyer Satan, who knows baneful counsels, answered him with a taunt: Skin for skin, and all that a man has — know that he will give countless things; a man will give his life-ransom.

But if, while he is still alive, you should openly scrape his wound, and even if you should strike his flesh and bones with a glancing blow, then Dalerophres will suddenly appear speaking otherwise, and will revile you openly with angry words.

And answering him, God of the crooked counsel spoke: 'Look, Nis, under your hands I have turned him and him himself.' And another thing I will tell you, and do you lay it up in your mind. Do not speak of death, since I think I could still persuade you. For it is not yet his lot to die and meet his doom. So then the Father spoke, and laid upon him a mighty word.

Satan went to go, and devised evils in his heart against Job. With scabby plagues and dread sores he was from head to feet. and his skin wasted away upon his bones. And thick scabs ran up and down along his sides and shoulders, blood-red.

And he himself kept scraping his moist skin with a potsherd; he had not scratched with his teeth, and he sat in the dust, wiping his grievous sores, wiping away much toil.

And his wife too assailed him with reproachful words: Ah, wretched among men, most miserable of all mortals, fool, in piety and righteousness vain — how long will you hold on thus in vain? since there is no need of anything for you. Surely now would your virtue and fear of God avail you? Or did your piety ward off grievous destruction? But come, blaspheme, and die! Why do you still linger? Better either to perish once and for all, or to live, than to be worn away long in painful misery.

But the noble husband, greatly angered, answered her, ever keeping in his breast a grief-enduring spirit: 'Foolish woman, what word has escaped the fence of your teeth?' O woman, how foolishly you hold it in your heart, or are you babbling these things? You are dull and foolish, since you have not spoken according to what is right. Shall we receive good things only from God, and never evil things? He who gives both good and evil; for he is able to do all things. For two jars lie stored in the seat of God, such as he gives of gifts: of evils, and another of good things. Ah, whichever God of shifting counsel may give him mingled, at one time he meets with evil, at another with good. Ah, and if he may give of those grievous things, he has made him a thing of outrage, and a vile devouring drives him over the shining earth. So he spoke rebuking, nor did he sin in what he said, nor yielding to folly did he babble idle words.

But when these things were being reported to the three friends of steadfast-hearted Job — for late a swift evil, a winged messenger, came to them — the noble companion suffered in the grave; and rising up they went down, each from his own house. First was Eliphaz the Temanite, leader of men; second again was Bildad, pre-eminent among the Shuhites over others; and third was Zophar, a great hero among the Naamathites. For they agreed to go as friends, grieving, both to lament together in their hearts and to be comforted with gentle words. And good comfort is for a companion, for all men, but especially for those who grieve.

And they gazed at him from afar, and did not recognize him when they saw him. And they wept shrilly, and each tore his cloak, and taking with both hands the sooty dust, he poured it on his head, and defiled his lovely face.

Thus for seven nights and days continuously, always sitting on the ground, they wailed shrilly around their comrade, and for a while they were unwilling to speak a word, nor to ask questions. For their spirit in their breasts was stunned at the wretched man, when they saw the unbearable suffering and the grief...

For a long time they all sat silent with a grieving heart; But at last noble, much-enduring Job spoke up, groaning very deeply, and loathing the day of his birth; He cursed much; for a mighty grief compelled him;

Lamenting piteously, he uttered his speech with wailing;

Let the wretched day perish in which my mother bore me; And the night, when a messenger brought my father the ill-tidings and said, 'Hail to me, dear father,' — his wife escaped her birth-pangs, and to you a male child fell thus at a woman's feet. So he spoke, bringing the news. Would that the broad earth had gaped open for him.

Let darkness and gloom be that day, a lightless day. Let God above not care for it, and let it be reckoned as nothing, so that it never have the sweet light of the sun, but the shadow of death and murky mist.

Let it be forever covered with mist and cloud, as a hateful, evil day, unutterable, not to be named, dreadful and dark, blacker than pitch.

And let Cimmerian darkness take hold of that night; let it perish from the months of the year, and let it not be counted among them.

Yes, that night is evil, horrible, moonless-dark, and barren. And let no one hear a pleasant voice in it.

May those who curse this day, who are ready to rouse up mourning and unceasing lament, curse it as an evil and cruel day, and along with it the destructive black night.

May the evening stars of that night be lightless, may it have neither bright light nor gleaming moon. May it never see the dawn, nor the dawn that gladdens mortals.

Because it did not shut the doors of my mother's womb, nor did it keep unceasing grief from my eyes.

Why did I not become a grave for myself, wretched as I am, within the womb? I came forth from the womb; would that I had perished right there.

Woe to me, my mother, why then did you nurse me to bear dreadful things? Why did you cast me out, since you bore an ill-fated son? Why then did an ill-named midwife, taking me in her divine arms, forestall me, newborn and still breathing from birth? Away, thrice-wretched midwife of painful birth! Why did a breast suckle me, an infant, and nurse me when I was tiny? O that I had perished on that day when my mother first bore me, when an evil storm-blast of wind, carrying me off, had borne me to a mountain, or to a wave of the much-resounding sea, where the wave would have swept me away before these deeds came to be.

Now I would lie fearless in the soft bosom of the earth, safely and quietly, and I would sleep.

Where countless tribes of Zeus-nurtured kings lie alike, and leaders and rulers of peoples, and counselors of men sleep a sweet sleep; For whom once fair dwellings, far from the throng of evils, golden, gleaming, have been built, imperishable forever.

Where the greatly-renowned lords lie down, who honored gold and heaped up silver, and wealth abundant and boundless in their houses.

O that I had been, as it were, a miscarriage, utterly swift-fated, or like a babe untimely born, which never yet has seen the light.

There at least those who devour their own heart cease from strife and are at rest. And under grievous toil their dear limbs had been loosed; finding a respite, they breathe again from their labor.

And there the harsh bond used to subdue them together even in prison; quietly they lay there, having escaped their unbreakable fetters, and never did they hear the mighty rebuke of the oppressor.

There at least all are together, both small and great, mingled with one another, and sharers of an equal lot. No longer does any servant, mindful of his glorious lord, escape the dread Erebus and the day of slavery; for they are equal shades, the lord and he who is in the lot of the hand. An equal portion belongs to the ruler, even if one was born a very slave.

Why do they see the light, and why does it still come to the living — men wretched and having a carefree heart?

As when someone eagerly searches for a hidden treasure, eager to dig, seeking where he might find it; As they wish to die and to follow their fate, longing that somehow they might be able to cut off death; But they still live, yearning for destruction.

Such a welcome end of death covers them, and it is a joyful thing; Greatly would they rejoice in their heart, as they come upon and obtain a share of sweet rest and the grave.

Why is light, and life, given to the ill-fated man, who under grief wanders hither and thither, and does not see where he might go, because God has shut him in with a dark, unseen cloud?

Woe is me, wretched man, why then should the greatest things happen to me? Woe is me, because before eating, with groaning and wailing, grieving in my heart, I devour my own food; From me, then, both Cocytus and wailing have been poured out, as from a spring, which down a sheer-cliffed rock pours murky water.

I suffer, all-wretched, because in my heart I fear exceedingly; But this has now come upon me, which I long feared very much. For I also said, before the fated day came on, that I would fill up sorrows; and now all these things are being fulfilled.

For I was not yet free from care, though I had long been prospering, nor was my mind ever fearless amid feasts, nor was I without dread, but my heart was always foreseeing evil. But now, contrary to my hope, grievous misery has come upon me.

Then Eliphaz the Temanite answered and said to him:

If we venture to speak, will you not be angered? Who could keep silent and restrain his tongue, when you are one whose words are many and disorderly, and you would heal them? For the word is heart-biting, and you have urged me to speak.

And you were once a teacher of others, and into many men you have instilled noble strength; Was it by your own wise understanding, and having gathered your spirit into your heart, and with feeble hands you put strength and might?

And him who, already faint, was about to fall, you quickly made stand firm again by your words, and you were a support under his feet; and on weak knees you set a stay and a defense.

But now that evil has come upon you, and it has touched you a little, Nor are you able to endure, though you are a clear-voiced speaker; But your own spirit was stirred within your breast, and your strength is loosed, and your heart within you barks.

Wretch, where indeed has your might gone, which you once had? Is there no god-fearing mind in you, in which you trusted — piety, and courage, and righteousness, and hope?

But come now, if you know anything of the glorious deeds of men of old, having learned the works of former ages— Of these now remind me, and tell me truly— Who, being noble, has faith? Or where has a righteous man perished? What doom befell a man of upright mind? if you could tell of that man's wretched destruction, if indeed you have seen it with your own eyes, or heard the report of another.

As I too have perceived, and have seen with my eyes: whatever sort a man is, such is the harvest that befalls him. Those who plow a wicked thing, having likewise reaped a wicked thing, and sowing Ruin, they carried off a fitting wage, and a fruit equal to their sowing, reckless men, for what they did.

They are destroyed, then, when God is greatly angered — when God is angered — blown as by a bitter wind; from his nostrils a blast rushes out, and they perish.

By the dreadful roar of a roaring lion it was quenched, and the sound of the loud-bellowing lioness; The jaws of the cubs, and the strong teeth were broken.

With grievous hunger the fair-maned lion perishes, the hunter, and the cubs of mighty lions were scattered.

Secretly, as a thief, a hidden word came to me as a messenger, when he had spoken a little; and my ears received the voice.

The dark night, when other mortals sleep, and the gates of the unspeakable dreams are spread open, and where many phantoms come upon the heads of men — then indeed a divine dream came to me in sleep.

As I saw, so I shuddered with fear from the dread thing, and trembling poured around me, and trembling seized my limbs.

And a spirit came near to me, standing by my head. And the hairs stood upright on my shuddering limbs; as I trembled; for pale fear seized me greatly.

It stood still, and I could not yet discern its form face to face, but I beheld a dim phantom with my eyes, and while it spoke, a faint whisper came to me, and it said to me a word: Surely a man is not more righteous than God?

Or shall a mortal be more righteous than the Immortal, who made him and formed him when he was nothing?

Nor does he at all trust even his heavenly servants in his mind, who are always his attendants. And he perceived folly even in his holy minds, who are his angels and diligent servants.

How is it not so among mortals? (since never is the race of heavenly beings and of men who walk on the earth alike to think of) those who have houses of clay, founded on sand, Ablēchros, of no account, which the dappled worms eat, and also moths; For to them it is destined that they become a sport.

In the morning they spring up, and in the evening they wither utterly, and no one of those perishing takes thought for them.

And their glory perished together with them, and these very men perished headlong miserably through their own follies.

But come now, call out, so that someone may hear your voice. But to which of the holy ones will you turn, looking upon them, and make your plea? So that in justice an advocate may stand near you?

On a fool a dread wrath sent an unseemly doom, and sharp indignation slew the light-minded man.

I saw a fool flourishing like a fair oak, firmly fixed with great roots; But he perished at once, and all his grace withered away, and ruin seized his house, and the prosperous stranger too.

His children are not safe, and no light shines on them any more; They are crushed in the gates, and there is no escape any more; For there is no one present to help, who might ward off their fates.

Their wealth is eaten up, and their toilsome works have perished; and they eat the unharvested crop of their field, and the fruit of the soil, those whom famine once drove, even from amid thorns, greedily; and a thief ravages their possessions in their houses.

For trouble does not come from the earth, nor does ruin arise from the dust, nor does it spring up from the ground; it is not from the ancient oak, nor from the rock.

Just as sparks, slender (for such is the lot of the light), are kindled into a blazing, far-famed firebrand, and lightly indeed they fly on high, and are mingled in the clouds; Thus man is born for toil, and for misery; So that he should endure, ever groaning and suffering countless sorrows, and having suffered very many things and toiled much, to fill up the dread doom of his life; For as fate spun for Teinomoros with the linen thread, when his mother bore him.

But if such grief, and the implacable fate, came upon me as now has subdued you by the will of the great God, then I would entreat him, and call upon the Most High, and I would wish to pray continually, nor at all yielding in folly to speak great things, but rather to entrust the whole matter to him. since he is far mightier.

He who shows encompassing deeds, extraordinary signs, and very many untraceable, unseen wonders he works.

From on high, out of the clouds, he sent fruit-nourishing rain; He sent rain upon the earth, and poured waters down to the ground; often he raised up the lowly, and made the obscure grow;

To the afflicted he granted that they be safe, and not to perish.

He scattered the snares of the crafty, and confounded their arts; A deed, whatever they devise, shall not be accomplished.

He catches the wise in their own craftiness, and overturns the crooked counsels of the deceitful; And they themselves perished by their own evil devices.

And they, even in the daytime, meet with hateful darkness, and grope with their hands at midday, as in the night.

But he saved the poor man from the sword and from battle, from the mighty mouth, and from the hand of the proud man.

So the poor man has hope, and is more confident, having once ceased from joyless misery; But the sinners became voiceless from the mouth of the one who frightens them, in silence.

Thrice blessed is the man, and four times, whom God still gently chastises with bittersweet blows; Therefore do not despise the chastening of your dear God.

He himself sends pain and healing; with his own hands he gives grievous wounds, and sprinkles soothing remedies.

He himself will rescue you with his right hand in six troubles; indeed not even in seven shall evil come near you.

Never at any time will you be frightened in war, nor in famine; But in both of these you will escape death and doom, until God draws you away from missiles, and from dust, and from slaughter of men, and from blood, and from the din of battle.

No one will overpower you with the shrill whip of the tongue, until the slander-loving man attacks with abuse; nor will you greatly be terrified in your heart at the onset of destruction.

You will laugh at destruction and famine, and from the untamed beasts, at plague and hunger, and you will not fear evil wild beasts.

For your stones will be in the crossroads, and in the mountains the beasts will be gentle, having dear counsels in your mind. They will make agreements, and oaths of covenants.

You will know your peace, and much prosperity, of which you will see your house full, never erring.

Your dear child will be beyond measure, like grass that has grown in a meadow, exceedingly abundant.

Late you will go down to the grave, and in extreme old age you will come to the tomb, and you will be burned toward death, full of days. As when in the summer season, having harvested the deep grain-field, they bring the tawny fruit to the well-wheeled threshing floors, and the wagons, pressed down by this, are weighed down greatly. Handfuls of ears of grain, and the ears are filled with kernels.

These things we know clearly, how it stands; But do you quickly understand all this for good, and lay it up in your heart.

Then noble Job, groaning heavily, answered him: 'Would that you would well weigh the burden of me who am burdened, and that grievous Ruin together on the scale were placed, and misery too in equal-balanced talents — all that I, wretched, have now toiled with enduring heart!'

All this, truly. Nor would a hundred-benched ship carry the burden.

Nor would even the weight of the deep sand be so great, which is poured abundantly on the shore of the sea; therefore a different word escaped me, whatever I might say.

For in me the winged arrows of God were fixed; And the deadly poison of the bitter arrows drank my blood and my life, and at once devoured all my inward parts.

Does the sluggish wild ass bray under famine as it grazes in the meadow? And does the ox bellow at the Pierian manger, feeding on white barley and spelt?

Could one eat something tasteless without salt? Or is there thus any flavor in the throat, or in the white-of-egg words?

Whatever my soul, loathing them, refused to touch, these things my table has served me as a joyless feast.

Ah, wretch that I am, why should I wait after suffering dreadful things? Would that it had been granted to me by the Immortal to fulfill this long-desired wish, which I have long yearned for and have long been awaiting;

As it might ever be dear to him to take away my life, so that striking me with his hand he might deprive me of hateful life.

And then there might be some comfort and respite from evil, and I would endure even though grieving, by necessity. Would that my eyes might look past me, since I have not hidden a word from my breast, and all the oracles I have made clear.

But what strength have I? What end shall be mine? That I might endure, and still be among the living?

Am I stone-hearted? And is my strength like rocks? Am I like the strength of a rock, or a thread to blazing iron? Is my frame adamant, and my flesh unyielding bronze?

Whence is my help? Do I not myself have my help within? Or has a god utterly destroyed my mind?

Always does the good man weave a compassionate purpose, and he cares for grieving friends, and he pities the wretched, if ever he fears any wrath of God.

But me, weighed down in mind by so many toils— My brothers and companions deceived me with words. And they came alongside, like a winter torrent flowing swiftly; Easily they slipped away from me, just like the streams of a river;

On them, at least, smooth ice was frozen over on top, and snow, while beneath it nourished a dark wave, as before; for it had been frozen solid by a brief frost;

But when the light of the sun and warmth come, then those warm things flow away, each in a different direction.

Their path is turned aside and becomes crooked, roaring; Those things quickly grow dim, and they waste away utterly, and every river is dried up, and the bright water is poured out.

The Temanites saw it, and the Sabeans wait for it, until those drinking the much-parching thirst let it go.

But when they reached the deceitful streams of rivers, hope perished for them as the stream withered away; As they saw, so shame and modesty seized them; For it is shameful to wait long, and to return empty.

So you are treacherous, and cruel, and grievous, O wretches, base reproaches, watching my misery; Why do you fear in this way and dread in your hearts? Why do you stand thus astonished like fawns?

Did I ever say to you, 'Give me a good treasure, and bring me gifts on my behalf, friends, a ransom to my enemies; rescue me from the hands of hostile men, and from violent men who devise reckless things'?

Speak, and I will be silent. Instruct me, whatever you know beforehand; but I, who would keep silent, will endure, having a listening ear, and I will not speak again, though my heart is greatly grieved. Show me my transgressions, so that I may learn.

How forceful are upright words, from one who knows well in his mind! And there is no little strength in words, when he has spoken according to what is right, and the encouragement of a comrade is good. But why does your censure and blame now reprove me?

Fools, did you really claim to be censors of words, of a man beyond hope, whose words are like the winds? For such as is the whispering of a shrill-breathing wind, such was the speech of a strengthless, cowardly man.

But your heart is unyielding, like an axe. On an orphan child you have cast a grievous doom, and for a wretched companion you have dug a treacherous pit.

Hear me, friends, though I suffer evils. Hold, friends, and leave me alone, then, of my guardians. Look upon my ruin, and see me, what I have suffered; For you know well (since you are not foolish) whether I speak truly, or not.

But turn back, friends, since it is not unfitting; but turn back, having a changed heart, considering my justice, since I am blameless.

Is there indeed on my tongue a grievous offense? Or does a confused speech flow from my mouth?

Is it not, then, a destined day that has been sent to mortals? Is there not a limit of life, and have the fates spun it out? Him I say no one of men has yet escaped being? Neither evil nor yet good, once these first things come to be. And the days of men are as the days of a hired laborer.

As a shadow cheers a slave whose spirit is gasping, in the summer season, when he is terribly faint with toil, worn out by sweat under the heat; As when a servant, with a steadfast heart, waits through nights and days, until he may receive his wage; for that is the reward of those who toil; and so a welcome end of toil has appeared for him.

So it is decreed for me to drag out a long time in vain, and months in endless toil. Always I am held by grievous pain, and there is no way to breathe free of misery and wretched toil; Nor did the sun ever see me at rest, nor the moon; but I groan by day, and I pass sleepless nights.

I lie on my bed awaiting the bright dawn; When shall I arise? I said, and, 'How long will the night still remain?' All night long I keep awake, and I toss hither and thither, now lying on my sides, now again on my back, and now prone, grieved at heart.

Worms and clods of earth have covered my flesh all around, my skin is torn apart, gashed with wounds, defiled with blood and gore, all over my limbs. It melts away relentlessly, and the whole body swells with grievous sores.

My life has perished without hope. My life has gone swifter than a weaver's shuttle, which by the weaver's skill, swiftly brushing aside the thread, draws it on as it breathes.

Truly, do you not remember that my life darts swiftly like a storm, and of the unharvested aether, and I shall never again see good with my eyes?

No longer would an eye that once saw me look upon me again; Your eyes are upon me, and I shall no longer endure for long.

For like a cloud, when the winds come upon it, stretched out by shrill blasts, it suddenly was gone; for the might of the wind swiftly scattered it with a wondrous tempest, and swept it away from Olympus. So he who once has gone down into the house of Hades, would not come up again, since there is no return any more.

He could not return again to his house; His place will no longer see him again, nor his homeland any more.

Therefore does the fence of my teeth not hold back my tongue? Nor shall I keep silent; My spirit bids me lament piteously because of grievous woes, and to gladden my dear heart with abundant wailing.

Am I then a sea, or a wild sea-monster in the swell of the deep, such as the brine has reared many monstrous ones, that you now bind me with fetters, casting bonds all around, and shut me in unshaken, so that they may never be escaped?

If ever I said, "That a bed will be a comfort to me, and a soft couch will stop my groaning" (for indeed that one was poured out in quiet, and sister to the grave), then meanwhile the evil spirit kept rushing dreams upon me, troubling me with nightly phantoms and visions.

Therefore my soul desires choking, and my heart no longer wished to live, and to see the light of the sun.

Woe is me, what shall I suffer? Since I would not wish to live forever and ever; how I am burdened? But leave me alone, O Father, O King, for my life is vanity.

For what is man, that you have stretched out glory to him? Or is it that he has become so pleasing to your heart?

And do you stretch a watchful eye upon him all the day, and do you test him continually every hour?

How long will you not let me be safe? Yet a little while, and will you not, until you have swallowed down my spittle from my throat?

I have sinned; but what shall I do to you, O most exalted Savior of the race of man? and why have you made me a mark, at which you would shoot aiming with arrows, so that I become to myself a most grievous burden?

Why then will you not rather let go my transgressions? Why will you destroy me for my sin? Soon I shall lie in the dust; at dawn you will seek me, but I shall no longer be.

Meanwhile Bildad the Shuhite answered in reply, taunting Job with reproachful words:

How long will you speak these windy things idly and to no purpose? How long will you babble in vain like this? But your speech is as when shrill-blowing winds roar, which through the groves send forth a man's unpleasing hum?

Does the Almighty pervert upright justice? Or did he judge crooked judgments among men?

If perhaps your infant children sinned against God, they perished by their own transgressions.

If you would seek God among the first, and with gentle prayers the ancestral one would be entreated.

If you were pure, and knowing your blameless house, the High-Ruler Lord would ever keep a wakeful watch over you, propitious, and standing by would guard, for the sake of your impiety, both your wife and your high-roofed house.

If you are small at first, yet later you shall be great; from a little beginning you shall be brought to perfection as you grow.

For inquire first about your generation, and search out both your fathers and the tribes of men born long ago. Inquire thoroughly into all things, and the race of ancient men (for we are but yesterday's creatures on the earth, tribes of men, knowing nothing).

For whom life is as a shadow, life is as a shadow, and their life a dim phantom. Will they not teach you, and will those men tell you, speaking fitting things with a knowing mind?

Can a rush grow in the marshes without mud? Can seaweed and water-nourished reed grow apart from a thirsty land, from a moist one?

While it is green and flourishing, before the harvest it withers faster than grass, and in an unseemly season it dries up.

"Such is the lot of mortals, and such are the ways of all who by transgressions have forgotten God." For his hope, reckless and airy, shall perish.

His hope is indeed empty, and his confidence shall be feeble, like wretched cobwebs bringing death to flies. And these things were poured out fine above the rafters, which one might see, by the treacherous weavings of a spider. "Suddenly an evil storm of wind swept them away.

And his house will always be weak and ready to fall; Leaning on it he will overthrow it, and his house will not yet stand securely, nor will it be propped well with his hands.

Like a thriving olive shoot that a man tends in a lonely place, which blossoms with white flower, beautiful, luxuriant, a plant as in the joy of a garden; And coming suddenly, a wind with a great tempest, it twisted him out of his pit, and he was stretched out upon the ground; "So then he straightway perished. Or as a tall oak, "whose roots, thick and continually joined together in many stones, are fixed upon a hill;

But not even so did he escape the din of wood-cutting men; And they came holding wood-cutting axes in their hands, and hurrying they cut him with bronze; But she, having fallen, groaned, and her lofty tresses were mingled with dust.

"As he blooms for a little time, not at all for long, rejoicing in fleeting splendor and glory; Suddenly he perishes, and his own place disowns him. "So he spoke." I have never seen you with my eyes.

This is his end, and a joy of evil paths: 'Other men will soon sprout from the dust, rising up later, far better than he.'

For the Immortal will never thrust away a righteous man, nor will he be a helper to evil men, but those who yield to violence devise reckless things.

Until he fills his throat with sweet laughter, his breast with gladness, and his lips with your shout of triumph;

Those who clothe themselves in shame will be forever your enemies; And the tent of the wicked will utterly perish.

Then deeply-grieving, resourceful Job spoke to him: 'I know;'

Why do you tell all this to me, who know it well? I know, I understand; these things indeed you declare to one who understands. For how could any mortal appear righteous before God?

And was there one who, taking courage, would dare to contend against him in dispute, and in judgment do battle with him in a dread contest, even if there are a thousand of them? He will not refute a single charge, but will yield to God, though he be a good speaker.

He who is beyond the mind of men, and beyond even strength — both alike — is a wise lord and a mighty warrior. And who ever hardened his stubborn-necked spirit against him, and was not utterly destroyed by the proud counsels of his mind?

He who shakes the mountains and in his fury overturns them, and mortals do not know how he spoke; and he nodded to the ground the lofty heads of the mountains enraged.

And in his anger he shook the race of men; beneath, he shook the boundless earth, and all the foundations of trembling Hpeiros were thrown into confusion, and the shaken land was heavy-laden.

He gave command to the sun, and the sun did not rise; And he held back the light, and checked the shining stars; He covered the sky, and all the streets were darkened by the dawn and the cloud, and a mist was poured down over Olympus.

Who alone stretched out the starry heaven, and swiftly trod upon the swelling wave of the sea;

He made Arcturus untiring, and the strength of Orion, and the Seven-Paths, which they call the Pleiades, the stars, and the rain-bearing chambers of the moist-blowing South Wind.

Who shows forth thrice-marvellous works, extraordinary signs; who performs very many unattainable, unthinkable wonders.

Going near, God escaped me. But him I could not see with my eyes either going here or there.

He snatches away easily. Who could restrain him? Would you speak in reproach, 'Come now, what sort of thing is this that you have done?'

If God does not choose to let go his wrath, nor is persuaded to cast off his anger and to choose friendship, dread defenders and boasters, men, have stood beneath him, fallen on their knees, and trembling has seized their limbs.

Shall I too, coward that I am, dare to speak against him with words that may be spoken out, and to utter words?

For even if I were a good man and blameless, I would not answer him with hostile words, but I would be a suppliant, and with my voice I would call upon the judge.

If I had called, and God had answered me with a word, yet not even so would he have heeded when he heard my voice.

And as when a dreadful storm of wind rises from on high out of the clouds, or with shrill blasts lashes the whole earth, lashes the whole sea; How God struck me, pursuing me with a slender whip, having smitten me beyond fate with unseemly blows.

Pierced with ceaseless pains, if he allowed me to breathe a little from misery, yet he subdued me with Peucedanian shafts, and made me wholly bitter.

If indeed I am mindful of strength, yet he has advanced in power. But if I should speak of ordinances and lovely judgment, who could appoint a day, that I might plead with him in justice?

If indeed I claim to be righteous and blameless, then let my tongue and my speech be witnesses against me. I say I am perfect? I shall appear crooked-minded.

But if I were blameless, I would not care for my life; I would wish now to have died, or to live.

Therefore I said, he destroys alike the unjust and the good; The lot is equal for the good man, and even if one does great evils; Alike dies the wicked man and he who has done good deeds.

When suddenly he subdues the tribes of mortals with a scourge, and alike laughs at the grief of an innocent man.

He has given the scepter of the earth to a violent, insolent man, who has covered the eyes of law-administering men, of those who set things straight, so that nothing might be upright in judgment. But if it is not so, where or who is he who will do these things?

My life is swifter than the lightest runner, who runs very swiftly, trusting in his swift feet; And it has sped swiftly past, like a feather, or a thought; My days have flown away, and I have never seen anything good.

They have sped past like ships with linen wings that cross the sea, swifter than a breath, or than an arrow from the bowstring; Or like an eagle, rushing eagerly through dark clouds, wherever it may find some prey and booty.

If ever I speak, I shall forget my calamity but a little, ceasing from weeping and gathering my spirit into my mind — for no profit comes from chill lamentation — so long do I terribly fear lest countless grievous pains be in my mind.

as many as leaves and flowers come to be in season; as I was ceaselessly struck with dread around and about my spirit. And this I know clearly, that you will not let me go innocent.

But if I am a transgressor and still am, why then has my heart toiled in vain, for a work that comes to nothing?

If indeed, having bathed my body in snow-white water, and washed my hands, I cleanse away all filth—

But you will cast me into a pit, and you will make me foul, defiled with mire and clay all over my limbs, from foot to head; and from my skin a bitter festering stench would drip, wasting my dear tunic.

For he is not, like me, a weak mortal, that I might be persuaded. Nor is there any among men who eat the fruit of the earth, so that I might reply, and plead with him in judgment.

Nor is there any mediator between us both who attends us, who might loose the case and change us too, putting an end to strife and quarrels with kindly words.

Let him cease from blows, and keep his rod away from me, and let him no longer terrify me with dreadful fears.

And then, having taken courage, I would gladly speak whatever I know, I wish to speak out plainly, trusting in prudent thoughts. But God did not spin me such prosperity, as I am worn down by sorrows. But now it is necessary to endure nevertheless.

Woe is me, wretched man! Why then should my end be the longest? How welcome to me would the end of life be! Would that I had died! But my heart has held onto life. I will speak whatever grief in my breast bids me, for it is no reproach, when one has a bitter spirit in his heart, to weep for his misery and, lamenting, to murmur, and to tell aloud all the sorrows he has suffered, groaning heavily.

But I will speak at least to God: Do not judge me by your own standard; show me why you are so angry with me as I grieve.

Is it then pleasing to you to oppress your own works? Are the handiworks of your hands then to be rejected? Or do you pursue a destructive purpose against sinful mortals? Do you wish your sweet light to shine upon their eyes?

For what kind are your eyes, since you are one who sees all? Are they then fleshly and like those of a mortal man? Do you have eyes and a head like a wretched mortal? Do you see as a man does, whose light is dim?

Are your days gone by just like those of mortal men? Is your life indeed passed by, and have the seasons turned about as months wane and years roll round, just as for a man whom his mother bore but for a little while?

Since you persistently inquire into my guilt, tracking down footprints and searching out every sin.

For well you know this, that I am not lawless. But no one is able to rescue from your hands.

I myself boast that I am the great handiwork of your hand, which you fashioned most swiftly, me who before was nothing, well and skillfully, both forward and backward. He fashioned me; but nevertheless you were about to spare me.

Consider now your work, and cast it into your mind, O offspring — remember me, O Lord, and let not forgetfulness seize you, that long ago you molded me like clay, which the potter too labored over with the many-skilled thoughts of his mind. And will you bring me back again into dust and mother earth?

As when rennet, hastening, curdles white milk that is liquid, and it is quickly turned about, churning it. Thus then you poured me out, and like cheese you curdled me.

You clothed me with skin and flesh all around; you covered my body with skin and flesh, you knit me together with close-set bones and joints, and you bound me with fat bones and sinews.

Willingly you granted me life and favor. Your all-seeing eye preserved my soul, and it nourished it and gave the life-sustaining breath that came first.

And you have these things within you, and you brood over them in your heart; But I know well, indeed, that these things are prepared by you.

If ever I do wrong, you, stretching a most avenging eye, mark me, and you will not let me go unpunished.

Woe is me, wretched that I am, if ever I was made wicked; But if I am righteous, and know what is fitting in my heart, even so it is not lawful for me to hold a proud spirit; I am filled with shame, and you look upon my misery.

For it is exceedingly harsh, and it grows ever with the season. And as when a ravening lion, mountain-bred, trusting in its strength, which, when it has found a horned stag or a wild goat in the glens, springs forth with evil intent; So you now pursue me, a cowardly and strengthless man, eagerly; and presently again you will do dreadful things against me too;

You stir up whips against me, very much witnesses of dread wrath, O Ilados; and thick upon one another, hostile battles, wars, and fights are upon me.

Why did you bring me forth out of the womb, O cruel one? Would that I had died and met my fate, so that no eye had ever seen me, while I was still unfinished in the womb of my mother! Would that no one had ever seen me with their eyes.

Such was I, wretched man, as though my mother had never borne me, and I had never seen the light, and as I was when I came into being; Forthwith, carried from the womb, I came to the grave, where I would now be lying, overcome by soft sleep.

Is not my life but few days, and short-lived? Leave me alone, so that I may breathe a little before my misery, before I go to the place from which I shall not return, to the murky land, where the dark death-demon dwells, and dread shadow, and gloomy night;

To a dark region, darker than gloom itself — is it so? — does a death mighty-limbed hold shadowy halls? Is it so? The whole world is chaos, and its light is mist.

Then Zophar the Naamathite answered and said to him: Truly he, greatly angered, rebuked him with a harsh speech:

Should one not refute a babbling, shameless tongue? Will a man of boundless chatter be very superior in judgments? Or will a word-slinger win his case, who clamors, and who knows in his mind words both disorderly and many?

Truly, would they be silent in silence at your lies, since you babble windy nonsense? Truly, for what did you say? Since it is not at all fitting for you to mock Labragoras; and will anyone convict you of talking nonsense? Will no one, I tell you, reproach that speech, as many companions as there are, nor speak back, when you utter mockeries?

Ah, do you reproach me with shamelessness? What a thing you have said! Pure, to my mind, is my life, and blameless the work of my hands, and I declare that I am faultless in my own sight.

Would that an Immortal had spoken clearly to you face to face, pouring from his throat a truthful voice, and announcing to you the mysteries of divine wisdom!

For it is double. concerning which we are able to know. And another thing I will tell you, so attend in your heart. The honor that you pay to God, as much as he is worthy, you do not fully give, as much as he has great need of from you. But he demands a penalty for wickedness far less.

Can you, by searching, walk in the divine footsteps of God, and by tracking find out the Immortal clearly? To find and to know (you think, but you are not deceived) what and how great he is in virtue, in honor, and in strength?

But to trace him out is most difficult, higher than the starry Heaven, and deeper than Hades itself, where beneath the earth is the deepest pit. What then can you accomplish? But what could you understand?

It is longer than the boundless earth, which is stretched out most in length beneath bright Olympus; Nor is its breadth so great as that of the dread, unfathomable Ocean, which is crowned around the boundless earth.

If he cuts off, and restrains wicked men, or if he gathers his servants in a mass into one place with all speed, who will reproach his deed, as much as he has done?

For he surely knows men, all who are worthless, and how he fawns upon them with the follies of his mind; He has seen the wickedness and the reckless deeds of men, and will he not, though he considers well, understand these things in his own heart?

A worthless man, born like a man, is like a foolish colt of a wild ass, and a simpleton, who has no mind, not even a little, and does not wish to be prudent, nor to be among the minds of others.

If then your heart is ready and your spirit hopeful, and you were hastening with prayers and gentle supplications, with outstretched hands eager to propitiate God—

If you have cast wickedness far from your hands, and iniquity does not dwell in your house—

Then your splendor will shine undefiled to look upon, gleaming greatly with beauty and graces, and with youth. You will stand securely, no trembling will any longer shake your limbs;

But you will forget your misery, and your pains, all of them, which stir you up; Your trouble will pass away very easily, like a wave of the much-rolling sea.

Your life thereafter will be brighter than the light of the sun, when it has mounted even the middle of the sky; Smiling sweetly at something, and the boundless upper air rejoices; From every side, and a white gleam runs around the sky. You will shine out brightly, like the fair dawn.

And then you will lie down unharmed, sleeping peacefully. And upon your breast your mind shall be fearless, because there is still hope; And you will dig round about a trench, at ease, and you yourself shall be a prey of your possessions;

You shall lie in your bed, and no one shall stir up fear for you; Many shall entreat you, taking hold of your knees.

But the eyes of men whose concern is wretched deeds shall melt from their head, so that they be no longer escapable; But hope has perished for them, even that which they were expecting to be unending; and it passes away lightly, as when a man breathes out his spirit, and the breath has flown from his lips.

Then noble Job answered him in reply, ever pondering in his breast a mind that had endured much trial:

O friends, surely you alone are men; or indeed wisdom is with you, and it attends you while you remain, but it will depart to Hades when you have died.

And I indeed have a mind; but I am not inferior to you; But who does not clearly know that such things are so?

I am a noble man subdued by grievous ruin, who once was a laughing-stock and a mockery to his own kinsmen, (and they laughed sweetly at him even as he grieved. ) And he entreated God, and God heard him greatly. But nevertheless, for a righteous and blameless man, who was indeed such, many mocked him, and he has become a plaything to them.

Whoever rolls about hoping to live, thinking he will fall, already having fallen to his knees and having met with great woe — such a man, cowardly, breathing smoke, cowering in the smoke, worthless and dim, is seen in his mind to be so — compared to a man very well-favored, who has not endured so many sorrows.

But the tents and fair dwellings of robbers flourish continually in great feasting. Those who provoke God — to them he has stretched out great wealth, and has poured down wondrous riches upon them for a day. The impious live, paying no heed to God's regard.

Now ask the beasts, and they will teach you; And question the birds of the air, and the bird will report to you;

Or speak to the earth, and it will remind you; And the fish of the sea will tell you, as many as the swell of the sea nourishes.

For among all these, who is there that has not known this, that the hand of God alone has wrought all these things?

In whose hand is the life-breath of every living thing, of all that breathe upon and creep on the earth, the spirit and life of men that walk on the ground.

Does not the sound of words stir the hearing ear? Does not the palate well know the tasting of food and drink, judging what pleases a man in his mind, or what is bitter?

Thus with elders there is much knowledge of mind, and with many days good sense attends together. Truly long-lived men are much-knowing, and the reverend ones increase in understanding as life grows.

Therefore with the Almighty King are wisdom and strength. He who is supreme in the counsel of men, and supreme in understanding all things, since an endless age stands for him.

He cast down and destroyed. Who could build again? He shut and confined alike. Who then would open it again?

For the thirsty land, water from the earth he destroyed, and its moisture. And he sent down rains when the clouds were heavy-laden, and beneath the storm the whole dark earth is weighed down.

And beside him are strength and lovely self-restraint; And both of these, by the will of the great God, are his: he who casts wicked deceit, and he who is deceived, he who is caught in baneful snares, and he who deceives.

At another time, having stripped and taken captive those who held shrewd counsels in their minds as rulers, he destroyed the understanding of judges;

At another time again he shattered over-mighty kings, and loosed the strong bonds of tyranny, and he shut them up, having bound them in prison, and around their waists he cast a belt upon the hip.

Trusting in his manliness, having stripped and led away people-devouring leaders of peoples and also rulers, whose strength was feeble, and having taken away their goods.

Often he confounded the words of the most trusty companions; If I spoke any word dear to their hearts among one another— a good thing—straightway the storm-winds snatch it up and carry it off; He has put profitless counsel of limbs in the breasts of elder men, and taken away their good wits.

And upon rulers he poured dejection and reproach; But these straightway become the most despised of the living. And those who in strength and might were pre-eminently the best before—their great fury has laid them low, and loosed the headband; And straightway there is no other mortal feebler than these.

And as many things as have been hidden beneath the innermost recesses of the earth, he drew them out from the deep; and outside the middle mist he brought forth into the light the black shadow of death.

He made many nations grow, and again he destroyed a people; And these are countless by the will of the great God; those who murmur against God when he has murmured against them are brought low; He kept confounding tribes, and again he kept diminishing peoples.

He easily terrified the kings upon the earth, and by force he struck them down even though they were mighty; So for them, grieving, their dear heart was broken, and wandering in a trackless desert they roam astray;

They grope with their hands in the misty darkness, and they do not see the light, wandering about like drunkards, to whom he gave a favorable spirit of mind, and loosed their limbs.

O friends, all these things have not come to pass unknown in my presence. But I know, and I have learned, and I have seen with my eyes; I was indeed inquiring from them, and I heard with my ears a report.

But I know as much as you do. Since I am not inferior to you in understanding or in nature, though you think very deeply.

Would that I could speak to God! My spirit bids me bring a quarrel before the immortal King of justice, and to display my arguments, and to enter a mighty contest.

But you are liars and reckless deceivers, adorned with fabricated falsehoods in your portions. A physician is a man worth many others, but you are worthless physicians, feeble and cruel, and you do not yet know how to heal my grief.

Do not now, I pray, sit beside me and mutter one thing, each from a different side. Would that you would be wholly silent, and cease from your words! And then would you be like men of understanding.

Hear me, companions, who speak wicked things, and understand the disputatious words of our lips.

Will you be boasters, showing favor to God? Or is it dear to you to speak windy nonsense on his behalf?

Will you ever be advocates for God in judgment? Or will you bring favor to him in judgment? And having contended for him against adversaries, since now strife has arisen, will you be his helpers? Is this one in need of you?

How I wish that your mind (may this be better) and your counsels were drawn out, and that I might test you! Will you mock him as a man mocks men?

If indeed by transgression you set crooked laws, and afflict others and secretly show favor to others, this one in turn will greatly rebuke you and will convict you.

Will not his surpassing glory terribly confound you? And will a dread, a wondrous thing, and fear terrify you exceedingly?

And your memories become like ashes, and your bodies like bodies of clay.

Be silent, and I too will be still, and let me alone a little while, that I may tell you all the truth. Let the Immortal punish me as much as is fitting, let him do as he wishes, and as is dear to his heart.

Why then do I take up my foul flesh with my teeth, the wretched wounds of my body, clutching at the dust that is my mother? Why then, exposing my life to danger, do I cast it away relentlessly, while it ever stands on the razor's edge?

Even if he shuts me in, I shall nevertheless trust in him, and I shall take courage in him, and in the midst of destruction; But even so I shall prove my righteousness before him.

He who is my mighty light and helper shall be so; For no deceiver shall come before him.

Lend me your ears, and hear my voice; So that I may say what my spirit within my breast urges.

For now I have set my case in order, and my proofs have been armed all together; truly I have marshalled dense phalanxes of arguments for fierce war, and they are eager to fight with might. I know that I shall win, and I shall soon appear blameless.

Who now will tell me, and will plead with me in justice? But if I sit thus silent, grieved in heart, straightway I shall breathe my last, and the bonds of silence will strangle me.

But have mercy, Lord, and set a gracious heart within you, and now keep these two evils away from me; then I shall dare to come before you.

First, then, keep your heavy hands away from me, and then do not trouble me with your dread terrors.

Meanwhile you call on me, and I will answer back again; Or I too will speak plainly, and you answer with a word.

How many are my transgressions, how many my sins? Show me my transgression and my sin, so that I may know.

Why then have you hidden your face from me? And why, being angry as at an enemy, have you grown wrathful?

Will you break off a leaf that is shaken hither and thither? Or will you pursue it with a dry stalk, with a whip?

For against me you have written many very bitter and grievous evils, as in a book, things that ought not to have come into the light. And you have wreathed around me the faults of my erring youth; All that I did long ago in grievous childishness, these things you have now reminded me of, and the things that I now, wretched, enjoy.

And around my feet, so that they may never be able to escape, you placed stocks and fetters, and shameful bonds. You stretch a most exact eye upon all my footprints, and you have set a seal around both my feet.

And thus someone might say, looking at another nearby: "Do you not see how this man, in his follies, has utterly perished miserably, and how he has melted away like something rotten, and like a garment, which becomes the spoil and prey of a moth?"

As far as a mortal exists and has sucked the breast of a woman, his days upon the earth are few, and his life becomes short-lived, and the end of death quickly overtakes a man, and from his scant strength he lives as a wretched one among others. For there is not yet anything more wretched than a man, of all creatures that breathe upon the earth and creep.

He comes forth like a flower, and is cut down; he flees also as a shadow, and continues not. A mother reared him as a plant in the garden of an orchard, but at once he is short-lived and wretched beyond all; he became so, to whom an evil fate bore and reared a mother. For he is cut off and withers away utterly, and is dried up. He is gone, flown away like a shadow, or even like a dream; he abides among the living but a little while, not at all for long.

Do you indeed look upon such things with your eyes, marking sharply all transgressions and faults? And do you come to meet me when I am judged in court?

Who could bring a clean thing out of an unclean? (Never anyone. ) Or who has come forth pure from the womb of a woman?

His days are appointed; the number of his months is with you, and you have set a limit which he cannot pass. And the limits which you set, which he would not overstep even a little.

Leave him alone for that, so that he may rest a little from his misery, until he finishes the life-course he has run, like a hireling who, having completed his toil, may receive a shameful wage.

There is hope for a tree, if with the long-edged bronze, being cut, it lets tender leaves fall to the ground; It will sprout again, and again it will grow leaves and branches, once it has first left the cutting in the mountains.

Even if a root grows old in a thirsty land, and a dry stem dies under much drought;

But even afterward, by some life-loving nature, it will sprout, whenever abundant water-channels are present; And by these it rejoices as a newly-nourished plant, as before, and it bursts forth again with flowers, since it drank moisture in abundance. For even if it withers for a time, yet this again revives it: the life-giving scent of waters breathes upon it.

But a man, a feeble man, swiftly fated, passes away; the cowardly mortal breathes out his spirit — and where is he?

As water fails from the grey sea, and upward the vapour is drawn by the sun's force, and the deep diminishes; As the stream of a river that is dried up has perished;

As a mortal sleeping in the dust will never rise again from beneath the murky darkness, nor will he sicken before he no longer looks up at the starry heaven above the earth, but always he will lie securely, subdued by mighty sleep.

Would that you had hidden me in a grave beneath the earth, and kept me hidden in the inner chamber, until your wrath should be sent down. Would that you would appoint me a time, and remember me.

If a man has died, shall he live again among the living? For this reason I too wait unceasingly for all the fated days of my life, awaiting until, having fulfilled the portion of life, the end of death overtakes me.

Then you will call me, and I shall answer you again; Longed-for. For you, truly, the works of your hands, the cunning crafts of your hands, will be pleasing to your heart.

You weigh all my footsteps very carefully, having perceived keenly, and you watch for my goings, whether here or there as I go. But he is the watcher and overseer of my transgressions.

Truly my transgression is sealed up as in a pouch, and you have stitched together all my evil devices.

He brought down the shadowy mountains into the dust; the peaks and the topmost headlands of the lofty mountains were consumed with their very roots; and beneath, the earth was thrown into confusion, and the foundations of the towering rocks were shaken.

Water wears away stone, and the flood sweeps the rock away, and a boundless rainstorm has washed away the things that grow from the ground. But you destroyed the whole hope of wretched mortals.

You thrust a wretched man down continually, and he is gone. At your moving, his countenance is turned now here, now there. But you cast him off harshly, though he has dense griefs in his mind.

His sons come to honor, but he does not see them; And soon again they dwindle, though they were very illustrious; But he does not know any longer of glory, nor of any mourning.

But dread grief will cover his mind all-dark, pierced through his limbs with sharp pains; With weeping and groaning, his dear heart grieved, he will have woeful sorrows, and inwardly he will lacerate his spirit.

Then Eliphaz the Temanite answered and said to him, and mocking him rebuked him with a harsh word:

Will a babbling man truly be wise, one who in his own heart foolishly knows disorderly and empty things? And like a well-made wineskin that is stuffed full? Will he fill his belly with wind, so that he may babble windy nothings, such as the storm-winds carry off snatching up many things?

In which will he be judged with unprofitable words? Is it with idle words, which do not profit men?

Wicked man, who in your heart reveres God, and still respects him, and does not at all regard his own soul, nor are you willing to be softened, nor are you touched by gentle prayers. But you have grown bold still further, and you have spoken an overbearing word.

For your mouth has openly recounted your wickedness, and your tongue, which is adorned with your guiles, the things you utter, like a crafty and thievish deceiver. Thus, you see, it is dear to you to speak deceitful things.

Not I, but your own mouth judges against you; your lips again testify against you that you are babbling.

Are you really the firstborn of mortals? The most ancient of men? Or were you born long ago, before the great mountains were made?

Have divine mysteries really been revealed to you from heaven? Therefore have you appeared alone wise among mortals? What do you know, that they are but shadows that flit?

But why—what is it that you know, that we ourselves do not know clearly? We? Or what do you know, that would be unclear to us? since we are not at all lacking in understanding.

And indeed there are among us men born long ago, full of knowledge, and very reverend grey-templed elders, who are older than your father.

Is it indeed that the consolations of God are worthless, and whatever he may give, trusting in kindnesses, is a word? For surely he knew how to be gentle to all. Is it indeed that some oracles were whispered in your own heart, as you ponder hidden things, which are unknown even to others?

Why does your heart swell within you as you ponder, O wretch? Or what has put you into such speechlessness? Why do you wink in this way, and nod with your brows? Why then have your eyes thus closed beneath your eyelids?

Why, thinking great things against the Immortal in your heart, do you rage madly, and fierce madness has entered you? Wretch, what word has escaped the fence of your teeth?

What is man, that he should be pure? Or what is woman-born, that he should be righteous?

For not even his blameless servants are trustworthy, and those who are most loyal and dearest to him of all; Nor yet is the heaven, starry with its most gracious radiance, pure in his eyes to behold.

How much more so a man who is hateful and shameful? A man insatiable of lawlessness, before whom would you appear? Who even with thirsty spirit gulped down sin, as when one gulping greedily drinks bright water, parched with thirst, and his spirit urges him to drink; So he in his wickednesses drank insatiably with thirsty frenzy.

For I will speak something from my own knowledge; but do you attend and hear me, O Angelos; this I have long seen with my own eyes.

And did the wise from of old learn it from their own fathers? To us they recounted it continually, and they told it forth.

To them alone God gave the whole land, and stretched out the tribes. And no foreigner at all dwelt any longer among them.

The wicked man writhes in pains all his days, with tears and groaning, and with griefs, racking his soul. For him, both outrage and violence reach the iron heaven; he has not seen many revolving years. He perished in his youth, and he came to the threshold of old age.

A dreadful sound rang about his ears; and the destroyer, having caught him unawares as he flowed on well, seized him suddenly, and slew him though he did not perceive it.

He does not indeed think that he will return out of the darkness, and the sword awaits him, very thirsty, raging with blood.

He is worn down by wandering, and like a wretched, weary, famished vagrant longing somewhere for food he roams over the people and city of men of alien speech; he hopes that grim doom and the pitiless day stand near him, when darkness covers him about with terror and great fear of grief arises, and he is seized by strength, as a chieftain trusting in his might, armed in blazing bronze for the fierce war.

He stretched out his hand against the Immortal in overweening fashion, and he hardened his own great-hearted spirit against himself.

But rushing upon him, and raging with shameless onset, he charged straight at his neck, and at the bossed shield well fitted all through with close-set nails.

He covered his face with fat and flesh, rich and sleek, and much belly bulged out over his sturdy thigh and his long knee.

He dwells in cities made desolate, and in houses that no one values, which are already about to become heaps.

He shall not have many possessions, and his wealth shall be short-lived, nor shall it be at all steadfast upon the much-nourishing earth.

Nor shall he ever pass out of the misty darkness, nor ever out of ruin and wretched misery. As god-sent fire rages through the deep glens of a parched mountain, and the deep forest burns, and the wind, shaking it everywhere, wraps the flame about. As fire sent from God devours his branches, so the breath of God's mouth scorches the flame.

Truly his mind, wandering and trusting in wretched folly, vainly grasped at great gifts; Therefore his reward shall be empty and worthless.

His prosperity, not yet green, shall perish swiftly-fated from the root, withered, all-unseasonable, quickly faded.

He shall strip off the unripe grape as he gathers it, and even the one still growing fleshy, like a vine thrice-blighted, unripe, harsh. But swiftly it will shed its blossoms, like the fruit-destroying olive tree.

As a tent would be desolate of a reckless deceiver, and he would become childless, and God would strip him bare. But those who love possessions, for whom gifts are pleasing, their fair houses would smolder with fire from top to bottom.

They who conceive toil and grievous transgression, give birth to wickedness, and hold deceits in their belly.

Then much-enduring noble Job answered him, groaning exceedingly, and he lamented more in his heart:

Truly I have heard many such things before. O companions, evil companions, having a harsh spirit, you are cruel friends, jealous beyond others, wretched and worthless comforters of my calamity.

O Eliphaz, you have quite touched me in spirit with your rebuke; But you will never cease babbling vain things. Why do you afflict me, who have griefs in my strong heart? Why does your heart and proud spirit urge you on? Do you rush in so recklessly? since there is no need of it at all. Was it in reliance on someone that you answered me with such a hateful word?

And I too could speak as you do, if your soul were in my soul's place — if equal fate had subdued you, and if you had suffered as many evils as I have suffered and toiled with unceasing heart. And I too could strengthen you with my mouth, if I wished, and shake my head at you and utter reproaches.

But rather may I strengthen my worn-out companions with some soothing word, and may there be a sweet-honeyed remedy for your groans and griefs, whatever I may say to you who are distressed, loosening lips that end pain.

But why now do I speak these things among you in vain? For I cannot forget the mind of joyless misery, nor do I think I ever will, either in words or in silence. But I groan continually, and digest countless sorrows by day and by night, and there is no respite from my trouble.

Because the heavenly King has crushed me, a wretched man, with grievous toil, and has bound me in heavy ruin; And he has made me a solitary wanderer, and has scattered my dear companions.

With hollow wrinkles he has furrowed my countenance, and he has withered my fair skin upon my bent limbs, and ugly wrinkles bear witness against me; And my body has become thin and wasp-like.

He who greatly confounds me, and has torn me apart with a pitiless heart, having torn away my skin, since he rages relentlessly — my enemy has gnashed his destructive teeth at me, and glaring at me he stretched his eye like a flame.

But those hostile men gaped at me, the wretches, and they struck me with unseemly blows, and they smote my cheek with their violent hands, and they rose up against me and gathered together.

God, being angry with me, has handed me over to the hands of the wicked, to become a prey and a spoil for impious men.

Though I was at ease, he shattered my dear heart; and seizing me by the head and by the neck at the joint, he broke me limb from limb, and set me up as his target.

And his archers encircled me with terrible shafts, and having marshalled themselves in close array like a tower. He shattered my kidneys with his unsparing right hand, and cut me in three and in four pieces, and did not spare. He smote all my inward parts, and poured out my gall to the ground.

He smote my skin with blow upon blow; like a monstrous giant he leapt upon me, one against whom my spirit within my breast most of all rages in its strength.

I sewed sackcloth upon my skin, and covered myself with torn, filthy rags, defiled with foul smoke. And my honor was defiled in the dust, and my glory has perished.

Grievous tears have furrowed my dear cheeks, and they have made my eyes, once very beautiful, grow dim; And the shadow of death sat upon my eyelids.

Nor do I suffer pains because of my own ruin; For I am not reckless, nor one who knows wickedness in his heart; For I do not reproach myself for a prayer, nor for a hecatomb, which I once offered to him; and my prayer is blameless.

Do not hide my blood beneath your depths, O earth, nor ever by my cry give me a recess where it may lie hidden.

Even now, high in the clouds, my witness dwells in my house, and my witness is in the starry heaven.

My companions mock me, and I am a plaything to my friends; but before God I pour out pitiful tears from beneath my brows, countless tears from my eyes, these flow for me, grieving at heart.

O that it were lawful for a man to plead with God as a man does with his fellow, and to come to trial in court, as when a friend contends in judgment against a friend.

But I, when a few years had rolled round, after I had lived but a little while among the living — and no longer for long — straightway going (for life is spent quickly, and fate is near, and he has set forth days, and my lifetime has passed by in wandering portions, and a little share is still left to me, wretched man, for my mother bore me to sail downward) — I shall sink into Hades, and shine among the dead, hastening my step into the unturning land, whence I shall come no more. But God took away my return home.

And I lie here with little strength, and a little breath still remains in me; already, as I grow feeble, they have quenched the life-giving breath in me. My days have been quenched, and my life is short. Now I am struck by lightning, and graves are ready for me.

Are not mockers and slanderers here beside me? Do I not see them face to face, when they speak mockeries? And I do not know their insults, and I see them with my eyes unceasingly, which stir me in my heart? Shall I not through the night take delight, thinking on the evils I have endured, I to whom eyes and heart are hateful, and for whom sweet sleep has perished?

But I beseech you, Lord, and do you give heed and listen to me. Come now, stand surety, give a pledge to be guaranteed, one who would speak most rightly of justice for us both. And who will cut faithful oaths for me, and take my hand?

For you put a foolish heart in their breasts, and I utterly blamed their minds, who said: Therefore you will not at all grant them any greater glory.

Whoever has ensnared a friend with guile, babbling deceitful things, announcing good things but brooding evil in his heart, at last for his dear children his eyes will melt from the middle of his head, so that some one even of late-born men may learn by his eyes a shameful blindness.

He made me a reproach and a byword to others, and among them I was a laughingstock, like the sound of a drum; I became a toy and a joy to infant children.

But let my eyes waste away from unceasing laments, and with much weeping, and with a pouring of tears. And all my limbs go like a dim shadow.

And at this a grave would await the pious, as they perceived. Whoever he himself is blameless, and already blameless, so that a storm may rush upon him with reckless deceit.

But the righteous man holds firmly to his own path, not swerving aside, whenever by purity of hands he keeps great strength ever for upright men.

But come, hither, friends (the minds of good men are changeable); now, turned back, you might recover from sickness. For among you there is not even one man to choose who thinks wisely.

Ah me, since my life shall be darkened, being unstable; My days have gone by as the months roll round; my life has run its course, like a chariot's wheel rolled along. My plans are scattered abroad, the cares of my heart.

But he changes nights into tearful days; the sun is quenched, and soon again dark evening came. Truly, then, they count even this a bearable evil, when one weeps for days on end, deeply grieved at heart, and sleep possesses his nights; (For he forgets all good things and evils, once sleep covers his eyelids.) But even so, through the night, respite from evil comes to me.

While I wait for the day, holding incurable griefs in my heart, a tomb would have been made for me, a shadowy house beneath the earth, where I might sleep and slumber in a brazen sleep, spreading out my bed and shining blankets, wrapped in mist and darkness as in a cloak.

I say to corruption: You are my father. But to the worm, Mother — you are a mother to me, and a lovely sister. Of this lineage and blood, I declare, I am.

But now, whence is my hope, or whence has courage come to me? Who will see these many good things with his eyes? Things I might hope for, that they may come to me hereafter?

All things will follow me down, and the sinking into the pit. We shall lie in the dust alike, beneath the bosom of the earth.

Then Bildad the Shuhite, greatly angered, answered him:

How long will you speak such things among us in vain? Will you not cease from words, so that you may hear our speech? And I will say something else; but do you lay it in your mind.

Why do you liken us to brute beasts, so great in your eyes? Why too do you count us as worthless, like the unclean and most reprobate of the living?

You have been exceedingly angry, and you tear your heart within; But it is possible that at some time the land will be desolate on your account — yes, greatly so — even while he rages in his heart; and no longer shall a rock be moved on your account, trembling in its own foundations, but leaping high it shall set itself on Olympus in the upper air.

There shall be a day when the light of the wicked man perishes, and his lamp is quenched, even of that man as he is destroyed. No spark from his hearth shall remain, which shall be a flame saving a seed of fire, since the flame has utterly been quenched.

But his house shall be utterly darkened, and there shall be no light for him in his tent from the torches shining beneath Hades, since his own lamp shall be quenched, and he himself shall be quenched.

And his feet are subdued by wandering, and his limbs below, and by his strong might he has turned all his footsteps aside from the broad-wayed road onto a narrow path. Truly, by his wicked plots he shall straightway perish nameless.

Into a groaning snare, having wandered under his own feet, he fell through his follies, and in a noose he set his foot.

A treacherous snare seized him by the heel, and around his feet it was woven, poured all about, and an evil bond subdued him. But his guilty, violent-handed robber snatches away all his livelihood, and cuts down his branches.

Truly, whenever he is about to set his feet, on every side along the paths, from the ground thick snares spring up here and there, lurking, unchangeable in form, so that they may never be escapable.

Fear and trembling will distress his spirit all around, and dreadful bogey-shapes with grim faces, glaring terribly, will frighten him. Thus then fear seized that man, and panic, the companion of chilling fear.

But his strength and might shall be consumed by grievous famine, and destruction stands ready, very near to him.

The firstborn of death shall devour his strength, gnawing his sinews in the firm joint of the flesh.

And all hope of his house and tents is perished, and his confidence. And a hateful fate led him to the king of terrors, and to the steward of fears.

Because from another's livelihood he built his own house, therefore a dread trembling lingered upon his tents; Truly it was shaken all over, struck by God's thunderbolt, and a dread flame of burning brimstone arose.

His root shall be withered and devoid of moisture; below the root shall be dry, and above it a misshapen trunk, the branch of one cut off, and the fruit of one withering.

His memory shall perish from the earth, and his good fame as well; He shall be unknown to all, unheard-of, nameless, for all days among men who may come hereafter.

And they shall cast him far from the light of the sun into darkness, driving him from the land with a rebuke, saying: Begone, evil eyeball, evil beast, begone!

Begone from the world more swiftly, you reproaches of the living! Nor indeed do children prattle at his knees; he will have no son, nor offspring in his people, nor then any survivor dwelling in his house.

It will be alike a great wonder even for those to come to hear of, how the grave held those who were before, as they were seen. A day of necessity and misery, which came upon him.

Such was the house of sinful men, and such their lot, whose deeds were cruel, who pay no heed to God and do not revere him in their heart.

Then again noble Job, deeply groaning, answered him: He wailed piteously, and spoke a lamenting word:

Woe is me, that I spoke thus; so much have I suffered at the hands of my companions. How long will you batter my spirit with harsh reproach? How long will you crush me with mocking words?

Now indeed ten times you insult me with grievous outrage, and there is no shame, since your mind is disobedient. But you regard me as some foreigner and a stranger.

Often in my follies I was willingly sinning, I erred, I went astray, trusting in my painful mind. For I do not refuse. (what mortal would not sin? ) But what is that to them and to you? let all these things be my concern; My ruin is with me; let no other care about it.

But if it is dear to you, quarreling with a comrade, to utter reproaches idly and not in due order, and to pour abuse on me because of my grievous misery, and to heap up reproof, when I have toiled—

Know that the Almighty has bound me with heavy ruin, and with his hand has dragged me, and I fell straightway headlong; He has cast his net around me, and I am entangled all about, like a fish in a many-eyed net;

If ever I cried out from outrage, a word undiluted, being worn down; and I have cried aloud, yet no one grants me justice.

Having blocked my paths from every side, he made them impassable for me; with mist and clouds he covered over my way.

I was held mighty and revered among men formerly in feasts, and much grace shone forth; But now again my glory has perished, and God has taken away all my splendor, and has stripped the garlands from my head.

He has dashed me on every side, and I am gone, and like a tree cut down with bronze that brings its tender leaves to the ground, hurling them down with its very roots continually— Thus I too fall, and all hope for me has perished.

He has been exceedingly angry with me, and he holds me as an enemy in his fate.

Against me in a tower-formation his troops gathered together, and they encircled me, and they dug a trench by my tent, like bristling battle-lines of shield-bearers facing the foe.

My own brothers stand aloof from me; those who were once my guests are now mine, and my attendants, who were formerly appointed to me.

Those who were dearest and most beloved to me of all, my kinsmen and likewise my companions, have departed far from me. Very far off, as if they had utterly forgotten me.

My maidservants and my handmaidens regard me as a stranger, and I seem in their eyes like a foreigner.

I called my servant, but he did not answer me with a word. I kept supplicating him with gentle words, but he did not listen to my entreaties.

Nor has my wife kept alive at my voice when I spoke, but she has hated me; her breath is loathsome to me, which flows from my mouth terribly as I speak; and it is thankless to his own people, whatever I may say. If I plead even for my dear children and sweet marriage-beds — but I think that she will not be persuaded by me.

Even foolish children despised me, reckless as they were. For when I rose up, they mocked me with reproachful words.

All who were formerly my own dear companions — never did we speak apart in the assembly, nor in the council, but holding one spirit we were always of one mind — these, when they saw me utterly ruined and perceived my misery, now loathing me have cast off friendship.

Woe is me, that my bones have cleaved to my skin, fleshless, around my limbs, and my members have become shriveled. I am wasted away with wounds, and my limb has been taken from the edge of my body, unless it was taken from under the roots of the teeth.

O friends, you are friends, have pity on me, inasmuch as I have toiled; pity me, wretched man, and put compassion in your heart, because God has struck me and set me down with a heavy hand.

Why do you pursue me thus, as God does, though I am already worn down? Is it not enough that my body swells with dripping wounds? Why then do you still have need of me, when my flesh is perishing? If you had long devoured it, soon would satiety attend you.

O that my words were written in a many-knowing book, to be learned by generations and by those to come!

O that they were stamped with indelible graven marks! O that they were engraved with an iron chisel, or with lead, on marble, or on stone!

For I know that he lives, to whom I owe the reward of life, who indeed released me and gave boundless ransom; That he lives I know clearly, and that hereafter he shall yet stand upon the dry land, when the very last day of the world arrives.

If then this body becomes prey for worms, and maggots and creeping things consume my flesh, yet nevertheless with my flesh I shall see God, having risen again;

I myself, not another on my behalf, with these eyes shall see, and not with others', nor with alien eyes; Even if my inward parts have rotted, and all my kidneys have perished beneath.

You therefore ought to speak thus: Why now do we torment him? Why then do we thus vex the soul of our companion with harsh reproaches? For in my case the ordinances stand fast, in righteousness, like the roots of a thick oak, firmly fitted.

Fear now the sharp sword, for the sword is exacted upon sinful men, so that you may know that judgment and retribution come to be.

And Sophar the Naamathite answered and said to him:

Therefore the cares of my heart urged me on, and therefore I too hasten, eager to speak face to face.

I heard the reproach of me, and the evil outrage, and the rebuke, and my spirit within my breast urges me to utter a word.

Do I indeed know this of old? And do you lay it up in your heart? Since the time when men first dwelt upon the earth:

Because the wicked exult for but a very short time, and the joy of a proud man lasts only a moment?

Even if his height reaches to the wide heaven, and even if he be mingled among the clouds, exulting greatly in splendor and glorying in renown;

Yet nevertheless he has utterly perished, like all-filthy dung, hateful, whose stench is most deadly. And now someone then, seeing another nearby, might say: 'Where is that man now, since I no longer see him anywhere?' But always, at least formerly, he used to appear among the foremost.

He has gone, flown away, like a shadowy dream; like a phantom, which quickly perished, when sleep released his eyelids; And now someone seeking him, if he should find him, he has gone off like nocturnal phantoms.

Nor shall an eye see him again, which before had beheld him, nor shall any place, which formerly held him, see him any more.

His sons, who long to appease even the rabble, will charm the mind of the poor with soothing words, and with gentle speech they will fasten upon the needy. But whatever possessions he took from them by force with a ruthless heart, wishing to please them, he will carry back with his own hands.

But his bones are filled with the sin of his youth, which he committed. Formerly, while I was still in my youth, when my strength was steadfast; but now, behold, I am seized with hateful wasting throughout my limbs. It was because of lewdness, and a grievous island attends him, and this one shall be his bedfellow in the dust.

Even if it was sweeter than honey upon his mouth, yet truly under his tongue wickedness was hidden.

Even if he shall swallow it down greedily, yet he did not let it go, but he holds it firmly, and it rushed upon the middle of his throat.

But his food within his bowels was changed, like the gall of a sharp-biting asp was wrought within him.

However greedily he swallowed down wealth and riches, he shall vomit them up again, as when a man, heavy with wine and hungover, retched to the ground, and wine gushed from his throat. Thus he would vomit up willingly, though with unwilling heart, the goods that he devoured. But God shall draw them out of his belly.

And then he shall suck the deadly venom of the asp, and the people-destroying viper shall slay him with its own tongue.

May he not see the rivers, nor the fair-flowing streams, nor the rivers of honey, nor the streams of butter.

Never shall he eat the fruit of his toil, but he shall give it back, not yet having tasted it, as one who is of the labor of his hands; Whatever goods he took from others, so many shall he let go, no longer exulting in his wealth and his many possessions.

Because he used to wear down the poor man with a ruthless heart, and he wickedly sent away the needy man empty-handed; He seized a house from another, which he himself never built, trusting in his manhood and the strength of his hands;

His belly will be without a share of rest, never filled, pierced with sharp pains; But desire for these seizes him, will he still save it for tomorrow?

And there will not be even a little left over of his food; In vain would a man be waiting for his own prosperity, which he will leave behind when he dies; For truly all things had perished for him.

When he says he has enough, while he thinks he will be satisfied, suddenly a need comes upon him no longer bearable, and in the midst of his feasting a mighty necessity falls upon him; And he will bring upon him heavy hands of wicked men.

So that he may gladly be about to taste food, just as he stretches out his hands toward the ready viands set before him, upon which God will swiftly cast a heavy-wrathful spirit, and in the midst of the feast (for satiety had not yet come upon him) — as when he pours down thick snowflakes to the ground.

Even if in war he escaped the bronze spear, yet not even so is he about to be safe. For as you said, a dreadful twang arose from the iron bow; the bow twanged, and the string gave a great cry, and the arrow leapt, sharp-pointed, bringing death and black doom; it pierced him through the middle, and took away his dear life.

It is drawn from the sheath, eager to satisfy itself on flesh, and straight through the tender flesh came the point, and the sharp flashing sword pierced his gall, and all was warmed with his own blood, and it loosed his limbs. Always a dread terror holds him, and a fear not to be escaped.

All darkness within his house shall be, and a murky gloom in the recesses of his house; But a divinely-kindled flame, which was roused from its blast, shall utterly ravage him, and if any one was left to him behind in his tent, it shall go ill for him.

Heaven shall make his wickedness manifest, because he has done it; A fool! for he said he would escape God's notice; But the earth will stand in judgment to bring a verdict against him.

But all his wealth has perished, since God was angered, and his goods flowed out of his house like deceitful water.

This is the portion of a man who does not shrink from doing lawless deeds, and this is the decree long since fated for him, a wretched destiny; for thus the god spun it for him.

Answering him, much-devising Job spoke, ever pondering in his breast a grief-worn mind:

Hear me, my friends, though I suffer evils, and let this too be a comfort to you, whatever I may say.

First allow me to speak a little in turn (for so is right), and afterward you may mock.

Is it against men that I complain? And if it is even so, how would my dear heart be stirred within my breast?

But listen to me; swiftly may amazement seize you too, may amazement seize you; laying a hand upon the mouth.

When therefore I perceived these things, amazement took me, and struck within my spirit I tremble, and trembling seized my limbs.

Why do the wicked live thus in great feasting? Why too do mortals grow old in misery? Why too do those who devise reckless things prosper, adorned with bliss and wealth among mortals?

Their children are vigorous, and their offspring are present before them, and they see their children flourishing on both sides, and their children's children.

They dwell in well-built houses in peace, far from all fear, apart from all grief, never being struck by the clear-sounding whip of God.

Their bull is noble, and it does not fail in mounting. And their cows give birth, and never do they miscarry.

They send them out a little, and in troops like a flock; and the boys sing with dancing and choral piping, and maidens and young men, thinking tender thoughts, danced, holding each other's hands by the wrist.

And among them a boy played the lyre sweetly with a clear-toned phorminx, and sang to the lovely linen string. And they, whenever they heard the honey-sweet voice of the lyre, were gladdened, and in all their hearts the spirit was warmed; and with song and nimble feet they followed skipping.

Thus they, well clad in cloaks and tunics, ever sleek as to their heads and fair of face, drinking and eating (for they had abundance), rich in livelihood, after they had fulfilled their doom, suddenly went into the house of Hades, into the house of death.

But they hemmed God in with the tonguelessness of their mind, and they cast out a very overweening word: For as they said, 'Go, depart far away from us as quickly as possible, for we have no wish to know your ways.'

And who is the Almighty, that we should serve him? Or what profit is it that we have entreated him much, since he has refused, and no relief comes from evil?

But the overbearing will not long be able to boast, for their prosperity is not steadfast, nor is it fixed. Therefore I too spat out the deceitful counsel of the wicked, nor did their crooked plan win me over, who, yielding to violence, devise reckless things.

How often has hateful darkness seized the impious? How often has a bitter blast quenched their lamp, coming suddenly, and has grim destruction with all its force subdued the torches as they were being extinguished? But God, being angry with men, gives them pains, to each one as he wills. For he is the steward of sorrows.

And they become like dry stubble, which the whirling storm-winds soon snatch away, or like chaff, which the shrill-blowing winds, whipping with the hurricane, drive round in swift-rolling fashion across the threshing floors.

For at another time God here as steward would store up for the children the grievous transgression of the father, and they themselves, paying the price, would enjoy it from their parent. At another time he himself, the wretched man, used to pay the recompense of his own ruin, and there is no postponement of wickedness.

With his own eyes the all-doomed man will see his destruction; he will drink the grievous wrath of the Immortal.

Why then does he still take delight in his own house, which he must leave, so that his life is cut short and broken off midway?

Who will teach God Most High, so that he may know? For he indeed judges the cases of the lofty men.

One man dies in the midst of his youth, at its prime, and he has the bloom of young manhood, when his strength is greatest; Prosperous, flourishing on both sides, and at peace, and he fears nothing; But his soul, flying from his limbs, had gone to Hades, lamenting its fate, leaving behind its vigor and its youth.

In the season of his prime, when the marrow moistens his bones, in the spring season, when milk fills the vessels;

But he, having a cruel spirit and being dishonored, perishes away from life, and never having eaten a sweet-tasting morsel.

But alike in the dust all shall lie down to sleep, and in one honor both the wicked and also the noble, until they become spoil and prey for worms.

But I well know the cares of your own heart, and all the helpless things you devise, insulting me.

For you say, Where is the palace of the ruler? Where is the house with lofty head of the far-famed king? Where are the halls of the ruler? and where are their people and city? In what bosom of the earth do the dwellings of the impious stand (if indeed he lives anywhere)? where do the wanderers dwell?

Would you not have inquired of these, who, meeting you at the crossroads, accost you, and do you know their proof?

Thus some are not at all safe, but reckless, and only for a little while; and from evils they are saved by some relentless sparing, until deadly fate and the pitiless day arrive. And presently, called again toward death, they crawl, just as from a prison, and for them destruction is sheer and steep, on the day when the visitation and wrath of God come to be.

But who then will convict the man of his overweening outrage, or who, looking him in the face, will reproach him for his deeds? Will anyone indeed repay him to his face for all that he has done?

But even so, being such as he is, mighty and without lament, he shall go down into Hades, and among the dead he shall shine forth, Mimnas, in the grave, dwelling in a house in the tomb, where his brothers and kinsmen shall bury him.

There he sleeps softly and in sweet slumber, and he will lie down gladly, and the clods of earth are sweet to him in the valleys; But we, wretched men, all the tribes of men, are sprinkled upon him, some before and others after; And around him stand countless feeble heads of the dead, as many as leaves and flowers come to be in season.

But why do you comfort me with these things in vain? How vain is your consolation, friends, and your folly has been considered in your words.

Then Eliphaz the Temanite answered and spoke to him, having been stirred up: for indeed wrath, exceedingly great, held him;

Can a man profit God with his own understanding, as a man who is distinguished in prudent mind? Is he himself greatly profited or benefited by his prudence?

What delight is this to God, if you were righteous? Or what great profit to him are your pure ways, even if you yourself were blameless and knew blameless things? Is it because he fears your punishment and your deadly deeds, that he reproves you, or does something else more shameless? Therefore now he has convicted you, and in justice has stood against you.

Fool, are not your countless offenses, your boundless transgression, and your endless wickedness? Do not violence and force reach the iron heaven?

For trusting in your tongue and your mighty hands, you recklessly, and not according to order, took your brother as a pledge, pitiless one, and you did not give him any recompense for his toil. From the naked man you took away his garments, and he had nothing to throw around himself.

To the weary man you did not give water to drink, and you withheld bread from the hungry. And this is still much more dreadful: that you let the thirsty go without drink, and the hungry without food.

But he took the land, whose power was greatest, and Okeus, who of all men obtained the portion of the most abundant honor for his wife; But of the others you did not regard them in your mind, nor did you care;

Nor did you ever care for widows, nor did you pity orphans, whose dear parents have died; But you sent them away empty, and you yourself broke your arm.

Therefore woven snares have encircled you from every side, and about your feet spreading nets are poured out, and sudden trembling and fears confound your spirit;

And darkness poured around, so that you may not see the light of the sun with your eyes, the sweet light of the sun; And rivers swelling, and a swollen flood made you submerged, and it washed you away with boundless water.

Does God (for so you said) dwell in the highest halls on the topmost peak of wide-gaping Olympus, very far off, where heaven is highest above the earth? Look at the stars, how for him the lofty peaks stand above the earth; and God is higher than the stars.

How does God know? How did you know? How did he perceive? Truly, would he perhaps see through the dark clouds? Or would he discern anything through the misty air?

Is he not quite wrapped in cloud, so that he sees nothing, and he walks far from the earth upon the circle of Olympus?

But will you keep to the ancient path that wicked men trod, and the broad way that men of old walked, which is destroyed?

Who are quickly withered, like flowers altogether out of season. For when a river in flood had scattered their foundations, and a winter torrent down from the mountains, and a boundless storm had arisen, they collapsed at their very roots and were being destroyed.

Because they have dared to look God in the face, and to mock him with reproachful words: 'Away far from us, Olympian! What need have you of this?' Come now, go, give way, withdraw far back! But what more could God do for them that is to their heart's desire, even if he were able to accomplish it, and if it were accomplished? For he gave them boundless wealth in their halls and wondrous riches;

but enough for them; yet their fields are heavy with fruits, and their houses are filled with good things. Far from me be the counsels and devices of impious men, since the plan of sinners does not please my heart.

Truly the good man and the children of the good man would have rejoiced, and all the pious would have greatly exulted in their heart, and inextinguishable laughter would have arisen among righteous men, when they saw those suffering through the land because of their follies, and bearing griefs beyond their fate because of their own recklessness.

And thus someone spoke, looking at another nearby: 'Our wealth was not yet being cut down, but the remnant of it all, poured out, was the rush of consuming fire.'

But come, cease from strife, subdue your great-hearted spirit, and do not, Job, wish to contend with the King of Heaven, but rather to bring favor, so that he may be gentle. Now then, converse with him in friendship, and persuade him, cutting oaths, so that a good portion may be yours, and all things may turn out fittingly.

Receive now from the mouth the life-sustaining law, and quickly the words of life, and cast them into your heart, whose voice flows from the tongue sweeter than honey.

But if you urge your backward-turning step toward the Immortal One, you shall stand securely, subdued as before, and far from your tents you shall cast away wickedness.

You shall store up countless gold like dust, and like the most abundant that lies about the paths in the season of summer. And you shall heap up gold like dust, and Ophir like pebbles.

And they shall lie abundantly by the fair-flowing rivers. The Almighty shall be your defense and abundant strength, and gold, which is a great support for mortal men. You shall have gold and silver in abundance.

Then you shall delight your heart in splendor, lifting your eyes to Olympus, and sweet longing for the Almighty shall possess you, and it shall become a great joy to you.

You will call on him as you pray, and he will swiftly listen to the voice of the one praying, and you will pay your vows.

It will be steadfast, and no word you speak will be in vain. If you set your mind on anything, this will be accomplished for you. And around your paths a sweet light will shine.

Whenever the memory of the tribes of overweening mortals fell in the dust, subdued beneath the hands of God, you will say that God, thinking kindly thoughts for you, raised you on high, and gave you to be ever-envied and pre-eminent above others, distinguished among many and outstanding among heroes. He who easily brings low the man who trusts in his own speechlessness, and will save the man adorned with gentle reverence.

Often blameless inhabitants rescued their native land from fate by their judgments and by their own counsel. And now you might ward off the hateful ruin from the island by your beneficence and the purity of your hands.

Then noble Job, groaning greatly, answered him: 'Woe is me, that now my form has become unseemly, as I lament over ceaseless pains.'

Even if I groan sorely and shed countless tears, yet my wound has become sorer than my groaning. I do not shed as many tears as the grief for which they are worthy.

Would that I might find God and reach his throne, as I wish I could stand upon the divine threshold. Would that I might be set face to face in judgment, so that I might know his ordinance.

I would dare to set it out before him, and to face his reproaches, and his upright words; and I will take up the contest of his speeches, a tongue well-fenced with refutations and steadfast words.

Ah, then I would know the words he would speak to me; I would consider in my heart what he might say against me.

Would he indeed contend with me in his great strength, he who is a poor man, trusting in his might, relying on hands and valor? (Ah me, since no one could match his strength) — Not indeed... But he will put into my breast a very bold, fearless spirit, increasing my strength beyond envy.

There the righteous would judge him duly, eagerly, in their desire that the arbiter grasp the outcome. And I would hope to win victory and glory from God, who has spoken judgment most uprightly among all.

But woe is me, wretched, since God is unseen; I went forward, but I did not see him; and backward, but not even so am I able to see him with my eyes.

Whether I go to the right toward the dawn and the sun, or I go to the left toward the misty darkness; I have not seen him on the left, where he wrought dreadful things; nor on the right, for there he is hidden.

But nevertheless that one has clearly known my paths; Grieved at all things, he saw my ways and knew my mind; for he tested me as in the furnace of misery, and I come forth like gold that shines greatly, which gleams brightly when purified in the flame of fire.

Firmly I pursued his track with my feet; I kept to the straight-going traces of his paths, and with unwavering feet, and I did not miss the road.

Nor did my heart, blameless, shrink from the commandments which the Father enjoined, but he set a holy ordinance from it; As a treasure in the bosom, whatever came from him through the mouth, this is more precious to me than a portion of food, which it befits me to receive, or a portion of food, and barley, the marrow of men.

But there is no man who has fitted himself to divine things by diminishing them; Nor will anyone make void what God in his own mind intends, nor make it idle; His mind is one and the same, and his counsel is one; He has done whatever he wishes, and it was dear to his heart.

This he has accomplished, which was appointed for me; Indeed many such things are with him, and also others besides.

Therefore trembling seized me, as I looked upon his face; As I saw, so I shuddered; fear held me as I gazed.

For truly God has loosed my heart within my breast, and with tears and groaning and griefs he has melted my spirit; The Immortal One has troubled me, he who is mightiest power.

Because I have not perished before these deeds came to be — at once, before the black cloud of misery came upon me, and I saw with my eyes the hateful mist of ruin.

Why is it, since the Immortal well knew all the seasons, both the portion and the portionless lot of mortal men, that nevertheless the evil day, in which the faithless transgressor is about to fall, a man has not known in his heart, nor understood, nor even if one knows God and reveres him in his spirit?

One man moves boundary stones in a rich man's field, and another drives off by force and pastures others' flocks.

Others drove off the orphan's donkey, and there was no longer any mercy, and they took in pledge the cattle of blameless widows.

And yielding to violence and grievous transgression, they thrust aside the wayfarers who were worn down by poverty. But the poor are hidden alike beneath the recesses of the earth, from those who do violence to them; For pale fear seized them greatly.

And they went out raging after their own wicked deeds, having in their breasts a pitiless and savage heart, like wild asses, which in the desert rush out from their caves at the appearing of dawn, in case they might find some prey that would be after their own heart; And the desert gave them food and to their children. Such arrogant and violent men, wanton outlaws, wandered over the blooming plains and the rich works of men, eating another's livelihood unpunished; They plundered their possessions, and drove off much plunder.

They came to another's deep-corned field, and they came holding sharp sickles in their hands; They came to a fair vineyard heavy with grapes, not their own; and the clusters upon them were dark; And they, gathering it by force, held the honey-sweet fruit.

Whoever was naked, with no rag to throw around him, they sent him away all night long, unclad, in the season of winter.

But the rain soaked him, when the rushing water flows with a roar down the mountains, raging with a dark whirlwind; who, when he has found shelter from the cold away from others, sleeps under a hollow rock, under the shelter of the north wind; and he clings fast to it, so that it may be a covering for him from the wind.

And when you stretch out your loving hands to an orphan child, smiling sweetly at him in his grievous infancy, they snatch him from the breast and from the bosom of his nurse, having a pitiless heart; and they have stripped the poor man bare;

And they give him no rag to cover him, and they send him out naked, and let him go naked. Those whose dear limbs had been loosed by grievous famine and by toil, and who never found life-sustaining handfuls of grain, but were plunderers, so that they might not even have enjoyment of gleanings.

They gather shining olives in the threshing floors, and tread the grapes at the wine-vats dear to unmixed wine, gaining wages for themselves and their child, yet never, though drinking, did they put away their parching thirst.

There together arose the wailing and the cry of men both dying and perishing. And the earth flowed with blood; The violence and force of those who struck the iron heaven with the sword reached up, and your plundering was not unseemly, O Cappolis, as you trampled; And an unceasing din had arisen. But God was soon about to punish the guilty one, and not with impieties, he would permit these deeds to be understood.

Wretched men know from where the light is, nor where the dawn is, nor where the sun that shines on mortals goes over the earth, wrapped in mist and cloud; Nor does the shining Sun ever look upon them with his rays, nor when he goes toward the starry heaven, nor when he turns back again to the earth from heaven. But deadly night is spread out over wretched mortals.

Man, man, bane of mortals, murderer, stormer of walls, you too before the sun, before the undying dawn appears, rise from your bed to slay a needy man, and like a thief you wander in the dead of night.

The adulterer, wandering by night, rolled his deceitful eyes, and sat waiting in the halls until the bright eye of heaven should sink, and the friendly evening star should come, dragging black night over the life-giving earth. But when darkness comes, and all the streets are scattered abroad, he says that no eye, however sharp, shall see him; for he prayed to be covered by such a cloud.

Others indeed (for the arts of evil are full of devices; But I would not tell of them all, nor name them, not even if I had ten tongues and ten mouths, which through the murky night bored through the chambers, all that before, along with the day, they chose as spoil to diminish. They do not love the light, and the desire of darkness seizes them. The gloomy night came upon them all, most longed for.

Truly for others the dawn brought light that gladdens mortals, but for these it is hateful, like the black shadow of death. But if anyone should see with his eyes, or learn of deeds, then in that way the dark cloud of death covered them, and murky fear gave over their dark-encircled minds. They were terribly afraid, and they shrank back. As when someone, seeing a serpent, starts back and stands away in the glens of a mountain, and trembling seizes his limbs; Thus they shuddered, whenever anyone might look upon them.

And they, terribly frightened, each thought of flight, swift as rushing waters that flow quickly. But their allotted portion of wealth and all their possessions upon the earth, as much as they had before, a wicked touch destroyed, and it crushed them, and the smiting Fury scattered them at once. But they wander solitary, apart from others; they do not go in among mortals, nor do they openly work the fat fields, nor yet the unplowed ground of flourishing vineyards.

As cold snow, which from water is ice, drought and heat, so the grave has seized the wicked man;

The womb that bore him shall forget him; of him, even though he is dead and laid in the dust, worms shall make a rich feast in his inward parts, devouring his fat, cutting away what lies upon the surface. He has perished, so that not even his name is left among men, nor shall he have a memorial among later generations. Transgression breaks forth, like a boar, until in the mountains both the East Wind and the South Wind fell upon it, and the blustering West Wind too; And they hurled their long-pointed branches at one another with a wondrous roar, and there was a crashing of them as they were shattered.

But she was a barren woman, and not knowing of childbirth; him, then, having rushed on with violence, the wretched one, ever sinful, kept wearing down with a witless spirit, and kept insulting the widow, and kept doing many evils, as many as all the others did not.

He drags them off by his mighty strength; as he rose up, no one any longer trusts that he still lives among the living, but he hoped that then it was fated for him to be caught by loathsome death, since he raged no longer bearably.

If God granted him to be safe and not to perish, both at ease for a little while and unharmed, alive — yet even afterward he would pay for his wanton and cruel deeds, glaring fiercely, stretching a very vengeful eye.

For a little while they are lifted up, and the impious are still superior to all; but presently again they were dashed down in the dust. They are gone, just like all the other mortals who are upon the earth, utterly swept away, nameless among men, inglorious they have died, and God has taken away their glory — as when one cuts off the topmost heads of the ears of grain.

But if this is not true, as I declare, then who will reproach me for my speech, as many companions as there are? Or will he speak again? Who among you will convict me of falsehood, and show plainly that I do not speak with understanding?

Then Bildad the Shuhite, greatly angered, answered him:

The king of Olympus, who dwells in the highest halls, holds sway over all with his might, and rules over all, and is a lord and high-counsellor, and a deviser of fear, and sits alone unmoved upon lofty thrones, and under peace governs the whole host of the heavenly ones.

Is there then any number of the heavenly hosts? Or is there anyone on the earth on whom God has not sent down from heaven sweet light and lovely radiance?

How could a wretched man be holy before God, one who is mortal and whose mother bore him mortal? If you know God, how is he blameless in justice?

But look at all the stars, with which heaven is crowned; The stars are bright, and the moon is radiant; So it seems to us mortals; In the eyes of God the stars are not bright, nor is the gleaming moon; For many things, O Job, that seem fair have appeared to him not fair.

How is a man, who is a wretched worm, made? Is he a child of man, who is a wretched worm made?

Then much-enduring noble Job answered him:

Oh wow, truly a very clever man and a clear-voiced speaker! How you have helped a weak man with your words, and one of little strength, who has no might nor any defense! By your counsels have you put in strength and might?

How you would be a counselor among the foolish, and would weave for them a defense against evil and a blameless counsel! How you have now recounted the whole truth very fully!

And to whom do you say these things? Whose spirit, then, do you keep alive, once it has been breathed out? Who revived, once he heard your word?

For I too clearly know that fear from him is to be appeased; Nor then does he abide only above, in the aether and the clouds, but also below, in the waters and the sea, he rules over all; The dead who have died, who dwell in the deepest depths of the barren sea, were driven back again beneath the waters by his will.

For him the recesses of Hades and the dreadful dwellings have been revealed, grim, dank, which even others loathe. Easily do the ever-gleaming Furies appear to him from Erebus among the dead, and broad Tartarus gaped open. Straightway the gates of the baleful pit bellowed, and the lord of the dead below, Aidoneus, shuddered; and in fear he leapt from his throne and cried out, lest the Father of men and gods should break open the earth above him.

He who stretched out the north over the void, hanging the earth upon nothing, so that it stood self-founded, yea, firmly fitted throughout by its weights.

He bound the waters in his thick clouds, and the cloud was never burst though it weighs heavily, bearing so great a burden in its pregnant bosom.

He covered the shining eye of the wondrous deep, he spread a cloud over the throne which he did not veil, upon it. He covered the air thickly, and Olympus grew dark.

He who also ran around the shore with the great sea, and set a fence with the waves, which it is not lawful to pass by, until day yields to night and night to day, and light and darkness bring a lovely exchange.

The starry vault was shaken, and the topmost pillars of Heaven were astonished, trembling at his morning threat.

He split the sea with mighty force here and there, and smote it with overweening pride, trusting in his utterly foolish mind.

He adorned the upper air with the many cunning devices of his mind, and the sky with the fair-seeming embroideries of stars; A dread serpent, a great portent, a monster, a wonder to behold, crooked, many-coiled, he fashioned with his own hands.

And these are but the edges of God's works; but he is mightier than report; How small a portion of him do we hear of! Dread is the thunder when it crashes from heaven; who can clearly know what the thunderbolt of his divinity would accomplish?

Truly he groaned heavily, and Job ceased from his speeches; and again he took up his word, and spoke a word, and swore an oath:

By the life of God, who imperishable, undying, forever holds strength everlasting, and can accomplish all things, who destroyed my life and took away my noble mind, and put a bitter thought in my breast — never, as long as I live and have life-sustaining breath, and while a divine blast remains in my nostrils, will anyone hear from me a wicked word, or a reckless one, nor will transgression pass back through the fence of my teeth; I will not deceive anyone's mind with thievish words, nor ever beguile with flatteries of the tongue.

Nor will I justify you; may this not happen; Nor will I cast away my innocence of hands, until I die and the fated day comes upon me;

But I hold fast to righteousness, and I will not let it go; My heart will not be shaken by secret reproaches; As long as I still live and see the light of the sun.

But whoever hates me, and knows no friendly designs, and rises up against me with hostile intent, devising evils — let an equal fate befall him and the reckless man.

For what hope is there for the crooked-minded deceiver? Even if his wealth were ten times and twenty times as much as all that he now has, and if more should come from somewhere, would his great wealth avail him anything on that day when the Lord takes away from him his honey-sweet life?

Will God, being well-disposed, listen favorably when he supplicates him? Will he greatly propitiate the ears with his own prayers, when hateful ruin and dread distress come upon him?

Will God indeed be a great joy to him, and in whom he has trusted, will he delight his heart and take pleasure all his days? Or will he as a suppliant pray to him with unceasing voice forever?

But I will gladly instruct you, and I will not conceal, how many glorious works of God, and the wonders he wrought long ago with his hands, I will show—the treasures of his divine counsel.

But if you know clearly, and see with your eyes how all things have come to be (since you are not ignorant), why do you still contend with your friend with vain words?

This indeed was the portion of the wicked, and the appointed fate, and this honor from heaven did proud men receive, who oppress others, holding overweening insolence.

If any of them was adorned in his bed with dear gifts, and was also blessed with many children, yet nonetheless she bore sons doomed to a wretched fate, and as such a mother bore these short-lived ones; For either in war, subdued beneath the hands of foes, they have been struck by the two-edged sword, and were destroyed, or else (which is the most pitiable death for wretched mortals) they have died of famine, since they lacked food.

And if any of his survivors be left among the few-born, he shall go down to the grave unwept, nor shall widows wail shrilly around him with bereaved women. And thus shall some woman speak, and lead the lamentation: Woe is me, wretched woman, woe is me, ill-fated in my noble offspring.

If he gathers silver past telling, like dust, and cloaks and tunics, and well-spun rugs, and a countless multitude of clothing, like clay, which in all the streets is ever poured out in boundless abundance—

Whatever he may prepare, the toil shall be bootless; Nor shall so many talents of silver avail him, nor so many fine garments; For God, having taken away his wealth, will give all these things to upright men to divide.

All the beautiful, golden, gleaming houses that had been built for him with splendors — and they seem to him to be imperishable — yet these are feeble, like a moth's dwelling, or like a shepherd's fold, and short-lived, which he perhaps soon spoke of under a little wind's blast.

The rich man lay down, and his great wealth rushed away; He was roused from sleep, and nothing more was told him; he opened his eyes, and saw nothing further. Evening left him rich; dawn found him poor.

Terrors in succession seized him, one after another, like the long waves of the loud-roaring sea, and evil storms snatched him away through the night.

The East wind, rushing upon him, snatched him away (he is gone himself), and hurled him far off, raging with a dark tempest.

And God will cast many grievous things upon him, and will not pity him; it would be welcome to him to escape from his hands.

In the assembly of men the clapping of hands ever rose up against him in unseemly fashion, and while many were hissing, shame and modesty stole him away from his seat.

Silver has a mine beneath the earth, where it is dug out, and gold has a place, which later in time a craftsman works with skilled mind.

From the mother earth came iron, a deadly offspring; from stone drawn out, bronze is smelted in fire.

For a mortal man, by the deep cunning of his mind, went into the subterranean recesses, and plunged into the dread, murky depths of the earth, and cast light in the shafts, seeking treasures and gathering up everything precious, whether steel, or the offspring of bronze, or the seeds of gold. And precious stones beneath, and all metals out of the dread hollow, and out of the deep sand (of which you might say they are in the black shadow of death, whoever dug them; so wide did the earth gape) he brought them forth to the light, and they saw the sunbeams with the sun.

If ever suddenly water flowed from within a pit, gushing upward, (and the waters of the earth swelled), and if otherwise, driven among the mountains by God's rain, a torrent rushed forth, and in such a way that it is a support for both feet, and it diminishes the works of men; There a man skilled in channeling turned the mouths of rivers now this way, now that, expertly guiding the stream of water, holding a mattock in his hands, and casting out the refuse of the channel, or through pipes; And it, flowing swiftly, murmurs — a wave rushing back again — and it even outruns the one who leads it.

Our dear earth is a nourisher of bread, and beneath its belly a fire hidden within is stirred up.

Stones are the seat of sapphires beneath the bosoms of Mother Earth, who holds gold-rich dust in her belly.

There is a path which no bird has ever seen, nor has the vulture beheld it with its eyes, which they say is the sharpest-sighted of the birds above.

That path the cubs of the tawny lion have not known, nor does the grim lion tread it with his terrible feet. But a man thirsting for the treasures of the earth has trodden it.

He, when he hoped for a treasure being beneath, smote the rocks, trusting in force and hands; he struck the rocks, and overturned the heads of the lofty mountains, and they from the root were dashed down headlong with a rush, and the depths surged up.

Among the midst of the crags a river of deep-eddying waters he dug out; every precious thing his eye has seen.

He checks the grievous streams of overflowing rivers; a great wave he holds back, and it leaps over the bank. If anything has been hidden away, he quickly brought it to light.

Where then can one, seeking wisdom, find it? Or where is the place of lovely understanding?

For no one of earth-dwelling men ever saw how honored it is, and worthy of all others. It is not findable by a mortal, nor does it attend the living.

"It is not in me," said the deep, firmly refusing; "It is not with me," said the sea, strongly denying. No one can buy it with gold, nor give it in exchange, nor ever with silver, even if he should bring countless purchase-price.

For neither of the two could be weighed equal in wisdom, nor if one should give as much as sand and dust, nor even ten times and twenty-times-counted gifts.

Gold of Ophir is far unworthy of her, nor is the value of onyx and sapphire so great.

With it neither intricately-wrought gold could compare, nor pure crystal; nor could anyone exchange it for fair stones of highly-honored gold.

Nor shall there be any mention of red coral, or of pearls shining afar; nor in account, nor in number; But this is better than all pearls — a godlike mind, and a prudent understanding, and a wise-hearted spirit.

Not so worthy is the yellow topaz, which even from the Ethiopians who dwell afar has been brought hither; Pure gold that existed before, and much refined gold, is not equal to it, since it has never obtained a like honor.

Therefore, from where has wisdom come, the queenly mother? Or indeed, what place is there of lovely self-restraint?

Because it has easily escaped the eye of every living being and of one that looks upon the earth, and it has eluded sight; It is not yet unseen by the birds of the sky, whose eye also looks out most sharply from its head.

Destiny and death, twins, have denied it, and having one spirit they cried out with a concordant voice: 'We indeed hear only a rumor, and we know nothing.'

But God understands the way, and he knows the place; where wisdom abides he clearly knows, and where she dwells.

For he gazes everywhere to the farthest ends of his earth, and from heaven afar he stretches his all-seeing eye.

When he made the swift paths of the blustering winds, so that they are dashed with a roaring beneath the clouds, he set in a balance the heavy-breathing blasts, and weighed them, and gave measure to the waters well and skillfully, and with a plumb-line he directed the sea, so that its stream might flow, and not rush upon the dry land; (For if the bounds of these things had not been fitted according to order, all things would at once have been confounded, and the sea would have mingled with the upper air.) And he set a boundless ordinance for the streams of rain, so that the fields might be drenched enough with thick drops.

And with thunder and lightning he drove a wondrous path, so that with a dreadful crash the din might arise throughout Olympus, through the cloud of the lightning-flashing fire of God.

When God first adorned all these things, then he beheld it, and with his own spirit pondered it, discerning well, and having searched it out he cut it off.

And he said to the man: Behold, wisdom is the fear of God, and to shun evil is understanding, lovely.

Thus he spoke; And then he addressed his companions with a word, but they became silent; and again he spoke a word;

Would that I were in my youth, and my strength were steadfast, as in former months and days, when God stood by me in all my labors, and guarded me.

By his light, when torches shone around my head, a wondrous radiance guided my path through the darkness, and I walked safely through the long gloom.

As when the most lovely flower of youth was upon me, the counsel of the Immortal One waited about my tents.

As in former days, while God was still with me, and my children around me.

As when my every footstep was washed with butter, with sweet oil, and the rock poured out for me streams of honey-sweet olive oil.

Whenever I rose up and went to the gate, or came through the city, or set my seat in the street.

As they saw me, so at once they hid themselves, the vigorous young men, and they did not dare to remain, but shrank from my face, and awe seized them. And the elders rose up at once, and they stood still when they looked at me, and reverence held each man.

Mighty kings fell silent in stillness, yielding to shame, and they feared to speak to me while I was present, laying their hand upon their mouth.

Therefore the glorious leaders stood speechless, and their tongue stuck to their silent throat.

When an ear heard my voice, it blessed me; and when one heard me speak, he would say this: 'O blessed Job, born to destiny, happy and fortunate, thrice-blessed are your father and your honored mother, and most blessed the womb that bore you.' as one spoke a word in wonder, when he heard him speaking. And an eye has seen me, and it was a witness for me: how I saved justice for the poor, and heard their prayers, at once for the choking man, and warding off the violence of the overbearing.

As a father to the aged, and a guardian of the orphan, and I readily defended him, so that I was a helper to him.

Whoever was faint of strength, and destruction was near him, he prayed stretching out his hand, and earnestly beseeching me much: I beseech you, lord, and I pray to be your suppliant. May God give you as much as you desire in your heart. So he spoke praying, and God also heard his voice. Long did the widow's heart laugh with gladness as she murmured, for I was such a helper to her.

I was clothed in righteousness as in a cloak, and my good order was like a diadem and a garment.

I was eyes to the blind, and a foot to the lame.

Always to the poor, like a father, I was gentle; I would break up their cases, whenever strife had arisen among men, so that I might discern both the evil and the good.

I smashed the jaws of the monstrous ruffian, and snatched the sweet prey out of the midst of his teeth.

Then I said, trusting in feasting and peace, unshaken and at rest I shall die in my nest; in my own house I sit on a seat in old age, my days are as countless as sand and dust; and my root spread beside the fair streams, and all night long my branch held its flourishing dew.

Always my good glory flourished among men; My great rounded bow, which was fitted to my hands, remained steadfast, as if newly made, always; but it was stretched out, trusting in both the bow and in strength.

When I spoke, people listened to me greatly and obeyed, waiting in silence, until I myself should appear, eager to hear my blameless counsel.

As I spoke, whatever my heart within my breast urged me, they did not come to pass without effect, and no one spoke against me, (for shame came upon them) and no one addressed me with a word. My speech dripped upon them like dew, and from my tongue flowed a voice sweeter than honey.

As when a thirsty threshing-floor awaited the autumn rain, and the parched earth gaped for the late-falling rain, so they stood with mouths open, until I poured sweet speech from my melodious throat.

If ever I smiled, laughter creased my face, but they would not believe it, for before now they still thronged to me, though I was fearsome and august to behold among men. But so that my eyes were not darkened with gloom. Nor did reproach draw near, but very brightly it flew cloudless, and a white radiance ran over it.

As a king was greatly preeminent among hosts, a leader (for he stands out among spear-fighting men), and he charmed the mind of those who mourned, and stirred their spirit. How God made me ever-envied on that day, distinguished among many and preeminent among heroes, ever sung of, a great leader of peoples.

Such was I formerly, at once honored and dear, and like a god honored among all mortals. Woe is me! Now again all things are turned about. But now I am greatly a laughingstock and a plaything to the younger men, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with my dogs, to guard the fair-fleeced flocks.

For never did those who were mighty profit me. Whether in word, or in deed, or with hands, or by force, their life has perished as the circling years roll round, all in vain, ingloriously, and they were worn away by wretched old age.

They who, in poverty and famine, their heart worn with grief, solitary wanderers, roamed through the barren land, and over the desolate plain, straying hither and thither. Truly, it always appeared rocky and wretched, the land. (For there is nothing worse for mortals than wandering. But they, because of their accursed belly, having wretched sorrows, were driven wandering, since ruin and misery and pain came upon them;

They plucked mallow among the bushes (for wretched hunger compelled them), gathering from the midst of thorny thickets, and the root of saltwort, so that it might be food for them. From among men, as worthless fugitives, they were driven far away, banished from the company;

And mortals went shouting after them, as after a robber.

But then they dwelt in secret in the glens, and in the clefts of the earth, in the hollows, where the deepest recess was, in hollow caves and in deep rocks.

Among the thick bushes they brayed like donkeys, being worn down by hunger, and they were gathered together under nettles.

They themselves are children wholly like their senseless fathers, and their parents were nameless among men, more worthless and lowlier than the earth itself, which ever groans being pressed beneath their feet.

But now they mock me, though I was such a one before, and though they are such as I was, with reproachful words; some of them attack me, and I am held in dishonor.

They loathe me dreadfully, and they stand far off from me; and (a thing that is shameful even for men to hear) they do not respect my face, spitting at me.

Because God has loosed the sinew of my bow, and has bound me with the cords of death and heavy ruin, therefore, urged on by shameless acts, like horses that have broken their tethers and shaken off their harness.

On my right the young men rose up to stand against me, mere infant boys who still breathe their nurse's milk; they tripped me up, so that I might fall in the dust, and they blocked my paths with ruin, as if to meet disaster.

They tripped my footsteps and thrust aside my path; they ruined my roads, and there is no standing firm. They hasten my ruin, pressing on in wickedness, and though they are trusted friends, no helper attends them.

With all their force they rushed upon me to break down my door, as when a swelling river comes down to the plain in winter-torrent, which flowing swiftly has shattered bridges. Around me, rolling like a swelling wave, they have come on a murky day, when grievous misery came upon me.

Terrors from every side rushed upon me, one after another, and chased my soul, and shook my dear heart, as a rushing wind shakes a heap on the shore; violent; my swift-fated prosperity will pass away like a cloud, which the force of the wind easily scattered.

But now my soul is poured out like water, and hateful ruin and a pitiless day have seized me.

My bones, pierced by nightly pains, ache; my sinews have rotted, and there is no respite from evil.

But violent disease and a bloody weal defiled my garments; and my tunic all around my limbs was bespattered with gore, and with blood, and with dust. Disease gripped me on every side more than before eating.

He cast me into the mire, the Blameless One, and I was defiled; and black ashes settled upon my shameful limbs, and my skin was dusted over. I am wholly ashes, and dust.

To you, O Lord, I cried out, but you do not hear the one crying; Looking toward you I have stood, but you are not one to answer equally.

You have become harsh and savage toward me, and not gentle-minded; And hostile against me was the strength of your hands.

With a wondrous hurricane you snatched me up, and I am raised on high, having mounted the chariot of the swift-whirling storm. And you loosed my limbs, and shook apart all my joints.

For I know this well in my mind and in my heart, that you will soon carry me to the all-receiving house of death, where it is fated for all the living to sleep. And I say he has obtained a share of men.

But surely not even a father will stretch out his hands over a tomb, so as to release the dead from ill-sounding death, even if, in their lives, men in dread affliction each prayed greatly with outstretched hands.

Did not my dear heart lament for a wretched man, groaning over the fate that steep doom came upon him? Did I not weep for the poor man and suffer griefs in my heart? Did not pity seize me, when I saw someone wearing evil garments on his body, worn down by hunger, as I looked on?

But though I was ever so gentle and mild, when I hoped good would be present for me, evil came; when I awaited light for us, darkness came.

But my inward parts boiled within me, and a fire blazed deep in my heart. And there was no relief from my dark sorrows. But a mournful day of misery came upon me suddenly.

Always, grieving in my breast with a dear heart, I crawl and wander through the misty gloom, and I do not yet see the sweet light of the sun. And standing in the crowd of men he bellowed a groanless cry.

As I became a brother to serpents, a companion to ostriches and to night-owls.

But my skin is darker around my limbs, like pitch. And my bones burn with the heat of a fiery disease.

For now my mourning is a song, and my lament was a sweet singing before; All these things have now left me, both song and lyre; Instead of the clear-toned lyre I delight always in wailing, and in groaning and tearful weeping.

I made a covenant with my eyes that I should be modest, and never a peeper after maidens; Why then did a maiden with glancing eyes weigh upon my mind?

For what doom comes from heaven? Or what appointed fate? Or what portion came by the will of the great God? Or what lot was it that came from the high aether?

Is not sheer destruction for men who act recklessly? Is it not a strange doom for those who devise wickedness?

Did not God then behold my ways, and all my works, and did he not well perceive my footsteps, and with what mind he reckoned them?

If I walked in a slippery path of grievous folly, and rushed into evil deceit with eager heart, and with swift feet, knowing deadly counsels—

Let someone weigh me well in a just balance, and God will know my purity, which attends me.

If I have turned my foot aside from the straight road, and if my heart has gone after the glances of my eye, and if any blame has been upon me, and it has defiled my hands—

Then let me sow, and let another eat the fruit; let even my offspring be rooted out from the root, which I may plant.

If ever the beauty of a mind-charming woman deceived me, if ever I was led astray in my heart by love-breeding words, if I lay in wait with a treacherous ambush at the door of my neighbor—

Then let my wife, shaming my bed and couch, grind for another, having secretly mingled in love; And let others, having seized my wife, hold her in their arms.

For truly these would be monstrous deeds, and all the many things that judges punish, as is fitting, who guard the ordinances before God; since they are no longer bearable.

As when a consuming fire falls upon a woodless forest, and the wind drives it, whirling it everywhere, and the bushes fall root-and-branch, urged on by the onset of the fire; So now would this transgression long ago have cut off my goods, and would have utterly destroyed my root-and-branch prosperity miserably.

If ever I set aside justice, and if I ever shrank from reproach of a male slave or a female slave, when they brought a quarrel against me;

But what shall I do, when the Blameless One rises up against us, and that One who rules mightily over all lawgivers, who is overseer and inspector of all transgressions? What shall I recount first, what next, and what last?

Did not the One who made me in the womb also fashion him himself? Did not one craftsman shape for both an equal frame, from mother earth, of the same womb, and from dust?

If ever I took up an unfulfilled desire for the poor, when I was the one giving, and no gentle pity died in me; If I ever gloated over a wretched widow, and my eyes grew dim and my cheeks were wet with tears;

If I ever ate alone, and alone ate my bread from an inhospitable table, and did not call the orphan to my meal, so that he might share my dinner;

Caring for both, the widow and the orphan, I from childhood reared and cherished the one, embracing him as though he were my own son, and to the other I was a helper from the time my mother bore me; If I saw a poor man perishing with cold, lacking strength, on the day when the snow thickened the fields, drenched without a cloak and a wind-defending tunic, and never was there for him a rag as shelter against the one wind, nor any defense against the grievous winter;

But he, standing beside me, kept trembling and shivering, and a chattering came through the mouth of my teeth, pale from the chill — and that was the most pitiable thing to see. If ever I saw such a one frozen to death by the cold.

Rather, whose loins I warmed under the fleeces of my sheep, and who was warmed wrapped in the wool of my sheep, and whose back was made warm, and he would pray, lifting up his hands, 'Hail, lord, because for you, remaining alive, I owe a life-debt.'

If ever I raised my hand against an orphan child with a strong hand, having taken courage, because a just man was dear to me, sitting in the gates, and he came near as a helper, who would soon judge crooked judgments on my account—

Then may my sinews be torn loose from around my shoulder. May my arm fall entirely, even from the socket, in the dust, from the bones, with the collarbones being broken.

For a grievous and horrible fate appeared to me, which God has sent upon insolent and overweening men; but I cannot endure it, since it was the uttermost.

If ever I gave, trusting in wealth and many possessions, if I relied on beaten gold and refined gold, and said to it, 'You are my hope, and stay, and defense';

If I rejoiced, and my heart was glad within my breast, because I was rich, and wealth flowed to me in abundance;

If I have looked upon the great light of the shining sun, or the gleaming eye of the night-running moon;

And a spirit led me astray in secret against my understanding, and my hand kissed my mouth, and I honored it as a god, as a star;

These too are wicked deeds, and no longer tolerable to a judge, for thus would I have denied the high-ruling God.

But if my heart was warmed at a man's destruction, as he greatly hated me, and I was stirred up at his being in misery; (For it is not a holy thing for a cowardly mortal to pray.

Nor did my mouth, blind to harm, curse that soul-destroying man with many words, nor did it call down hateful Furies) But if my own household did not speak thus, 'Ah, would that seizing his flesh and rich fat we might have devoured it raw, since no satiety is made for us.'

No stranger used to lodge in the open in the streets, but I opened my doors, that I might receive a wayfaring man.

But if I covered over my transgressions like Adam, hiding my wickedness in my bosom,

Did a great multitude of people truly terrify me? Or did the tribes of mortals wound my heart with reproaches, so that I sat silent in my house grieving, and did not go out the door, struck by dread terrible fear?

O that someone would press a hearing ear to me! Behold, let God answer me face to face, and I would wish it — this has long been my desire: O that my adversary would write a truthful book!

Carrying it on my shoulder I would bear it as a lovely burden, or I would set it like a crown upon my temples.

I would declare to him all my steps, and I would count them; I would approach him as a prince.

If my fertile field has reproached me with outrage — verily, and the much-groaning furrows of the land have ceased from their lord — as though I had violently seized another's plot of ground;

If I ate the honey-sweet fruit of the field without paying, or, as one who sacrifices without smoke, gave not even a worthy price, and the Mestians' destruction — those who possessed it before —

Let the earth bring forth thistles instead of wheat, and darnel instead of life-nourishing grain. Thus then, having spoken, Job ceased from his words.

And so those three all together fell silent, marveling at his speech, for he had spoken very strongly, because in his own mind it seemed to him that he was altogether righteous, and adorned with piety, and not a sinner.

And Elihu the son of Barachel the Buzite, of the family of Ram, was very angry; indeed he was especially angered at the words which Job had spoken. For he used to pray that he was pure and blameless in his sight, seeing that he thought himself more righteous than God.

And the three alike were fiercely angry at their companions, because they stood speechless, and they condemned Job, and did not defeat him with opposing words.

And he sat for a long time in silence, waiting until Job should fall silent, and his companions too, because they were older.

But when he perceived one thing at once—three friends listening—for no speech was at hand for them, and he answered a word to Job—he raged relentlessly, and savage anger seized him.

And then indeed he took courage, and answering he spoke a word: 'Hear, friends, and let not each of you be indignant with anger, because I am the youngest in birth among you.' I am younger in age, but you are elders; therefore I greatly fear, and I did not dare to speak out. For it is a shame for a young man to speak face to face with an elder.

Truly I said, 'The grey-templed are wise.' Let the aged speak, and let many days teach, 'How there may be profit, since understanding attends old age,' 'Whoever then was born earlier, he has more already.'

But there is a soul in a mortal, and a divine spirit in his breast, a Thespian breath, giving understanding in his chest.

Not always are men of many years also of much knowledge. An elder who has grown old might then be a fool in his mind. And often a younger man might speak with understanding.

Therefore I said, 'And now listen to me, your elder, so that I may say what the spirit in my breast commands.' Truly I too will show my mind, and I will not conceal it.

Unceasingly awaiting your words, I inclined an ever-listening ear to your speeches, so that you might not speak out, pondering in your minds what I should set forth first, what next, and what last.

But I understood you, and I perceived all things very well, and there was no one among you who refuted Job well with hostile words, and disproved his speech.

It is not so, nor is it fitting for you to speak these things; we know clearly how these deeds come to pass. To others it is not discoverable by knowledge, but to us alone. For that man, subdued by the stroke and hand of God, spoke, nor did any cowardly mortal slander him.

For neither did Job speak against me, nor will I answer him with your words, but I will say whatever seemed to me to be better.

Therefore they stood speechless, struck with amazement; truly a great stupor seized each one, and a silence of chilling stupor came to pass.

But when they kept waiting, behold, no one answered Job, but for that reason he sat silent, and did not address him with a word.

Truly I said, 'And I too will answer, as is right.' Nor shall I be silent, but I will speak, for my spirit urges me to declare it, and I shall go through it all, just as I think.

I am full of words; I bear a pregnant spirit, and I groan, eager to give birth to my words in your presence.

As wineskins are squeezed when stuffed with sweet wine, and it seethes within under a grievous eye, and being pressed it is let out, though longing for a way, and bursting upward it leaps, and soon it has burst from its fullness, and it flows down swiftly and murmurs. How my heart swells within me as I ponder, my mind boils in my breast, and it breathes all around, eager to break the lid of my lips and the fence of my teeth.

Therefore I will speak out, so that I may breathe a little, open my truthful mouth, and speak plainly.

Let me not now respect the gracious faces of men, nor flatter anyone with soft lies. For that man is hateful to me, just like the gates of Hades, who hides one thing in his mind but speaks another.

But if I had learned the soothing charms of much-wandering words, bewitching the mind and heart with wily speeches, then he who gave to me before would swiftly have taken away even my life. For God the Father will not be a helper in support of lies.

Do listen to me, then, Job, and hear my speech; whatever I may now say, lay it up in your heart.

The gates of my mouth were opened, and a voice rushed out; my tongue broke the seal of grievous silence.

I will utter a speech that makes straight, an interpreter of my heart; my lips will recount them very plainly and with constant fitness.

For I too am a mortal, and my lineage is from the same source as yours; Therefore do not you fear; I too am mortal, a work of the immortal Spirit, a god-fashioned image, such as you also are; and the breath of God he dripped into my nostrils, and breathed in a blast.

Tell me, if you can, and if it is dear to your heart, rouse yourself, good sir, and answer with ready words.

As you said that I wished, and that had long been your desire. Would that the Lord himself might enter the contest of words, and that he might deign to bring it before you, and I in God's stead— And do not be afraid of me, since we are one kindred, he who made the others, this one fashioned me well too. For I too was made a work kneaded in dust, as other mortals are upon the earth eating bread, and my body is molded out of clay.

Therefore I do not question you at all, trusting in my ignorance, nor will I stir you into fear with harsh words, nor — for it is not fitting — will I bring heavy hands upon you. Take courage, and do not be exceedingly afraid in your heart at all.

I inclined my ear to you, and hearing you speak, truly you have uttered a very arrogant word. For as you said, 'Truly I am clean and blameless, and knowing what is fitting, and I am no transgressor.'

But there is no ruin in me at all, nor any transgression, since my mind is guileless.

God could easily, if he wished, subdue even an innocent man, and he has found occasion for reproach, so that he might accuse me; he has placed me in the fate of a hostile and wicked man.

He firmly fixed the soles in measured spans; he marked all my footprints and considered where I walk.

And I will tell you another thing, but do you lay it up in your heart: This you have not spoken well; you resemble a reckless man. Nor have you spoken according to what is right, for God is mightier than men, by so much also greater in virtue, in honor, and in strength.

Why do you wish to contend with him? since there is no need at all for you to do so. For do not, Job, suppose all the words of God— that you will know; they will be hard for you, though you are good. For he did not make his cares plain in his heart, nor does anyone clearly know, as I think, for what reason he did such things;

The Immortal spoke once, and a second time again, but a man has not yet understood in his mind, nor perceived—a fool—nor did he comprehend the voice of him who spoke.

In drowsings, and in visions, in the dead of night, when the tribes of mortals, subdued by soft sleep, slumber very sweetly at the dreamy gates—

There indeed God also instructs mortal men, and very many things he enjoined, and as with a seal he engraved his instruction, so that they might not forget his counsels.

So that he may restrain a man's spirit from his deeds, when he is eager, and may put a stop to him from grievous speechlessness.

At another time, of his own ready will, he warded off wretched destruction from him, and from the sword he rescued his life, his soul from Hades.

And at another time again the Father gave him over to evil, testing him. So he lies on his bed suffering grievous pains, pierced through all his bones with sharp agonies.

His appetite for drink and food is gone, and no desire for bread and sweet grain seizes his mind, because of his wasting away, and he loathes rich feasting.

But his flesh wastes away in his bending limbs, which formerly were swollen, but now are not seen; And his bones were dashed, which even before were not seen.

So he, being brought low, because you shoot at a grave with your own mind, said that he was among the living; but already death and mighty fate stand near him.

If indeed there is present with him a messenger, or a prophet, a herald of justice, a witness of good laws, one out of a thousand, and worth as much as many others, who knows in his mind how to speak fitting things, who would show him the path of piety, so that he may be persuaded—

Immediately then the Olympian will be gracious to him, and he will say that he will release him from a fate without grief, because he has found a ransom, and has accepted glorious recompense.

Thus he will find relief from evil, and escape disease; his skin, fresh and smiling with renewed fat, will rejoice in its limbs with splendor, as before. His sinews and flesh will be more plump than a tender child's, whom his father cherished in great festivity. And again he will bloom forth the most graceful flower of youth. For thus the divine Lord, on account of all the good deeds he has done, will scrape away old age and make him young and in his prime.

He will entreat the Immortal One, and he, knowing gentle gifts, will strike the ever-hearing ear of his prayer; rejoicing in the divine joy he will look upon his countenance; Thus he indeed partakes of his own virtue through the good laws of God, he who used to honor justice, and the fitting deeds of pious men, lest anyone being defrauded go away of his equal share.

He watches men, and if any of them has said, "I have sinned, and I have perverted what is right, and it did not profit me, but rather I was harmed more" —

He will rescue his soul, which has gone away from Hades, but he still lives and sees the light of the sun.

Often indeed God has done all these things for a mortal man; He himself has many good drugs mixed together, and many baneful ones, and with them he might heal the minds of mortals.

So that he might bring back a man's soul again, and give it release, and lead it back up into the light from hateful Hades, and it might rise from the tomb and see the rays of the sun, and still be among the living.

Therefore I will speak to you, and do you give heed, and listen to me; sit in silence quietly, and I will tell you what is fitting.

But if you have any word, answer me, and do not conceal it; speak out whatever you think, and I am willing to be your advocate. To utter a word as witness of your righteousness.

But if not, you are present in word, listen to my voice; now understand in silence, and I will teach you wisdom.

Indeed he, as Barachiah's blameless son spoke; Nor did he cease from words any longer, but seeing his companions listening, having drawn himself round in a circle, he spoke winged words:

Hear me, men who are very wise in words, and incline your ears to me, keeping shrewd counsels in your minds.

For his tongue laid out feasts, as it were, full of many turns and very many things, skillfully (for such is the office of the mouth), and from all kinds of food he took tastes, and knew their nature. As he is both a knower and witness of his own words, whether they are true or not, and whether they are sweet or bitter, already.

But come, let us all be persuaded as I may speak. Let us weave counsel, and let us consider a plan, so that we may know well what is best to choose.

For Job said exulting, 'I am righteous; God drove out justice from me and stole away my rights.'

Truly, then, shall I speak some falsehood when I judge concerning myself? But one must not lie, when one knows how to speak clearly. My wound is relentless, and the pain has become incurable, yet grievous transgression is not the cause for him. So spoke the loud-boaster, trusting in his speechlessness.

Alas, how then do mortals accuse God? For from that, they say, they are evil; but they themselves, by their own recklessness, have sorrows beyond measure. How there is no other mortal more dream-haunted than Job, who drank reproach and mockery, as when a thirsty man drinks the most gulping water.

Who indeed walked that very road ever among sinful men, and companioned with them, whose concern was reckless deeds. (As God ever brings like to like. Again he himself spoke in return about the overweening pride of his mind: 'For not even thus is a man greatly profited, nor is he blamed, who has delighted his dear heart in God.'

But you also be persuaded, since to obey is better. Hear me in my words, all you who are wise of mind. The Lord has not yet done evil things, and may this not happen, nor is there any grievous wickedness with the Immortal One.

For to a man he paid a wage worthy of his deeds, and he gave to each, as is right, according to what he did.

Surely God would not, yielding to violence, do wicked things, nor would the Immortal ever pervert justice.

Who then entrusted to him the helm of the crumbling earth? Who is ruler of the wide-spaced earth, to whom the boundless world, to whom peoples have been entrusted, and all things are a care?

If he sharply perceives a mortal, and takes away his own life, and again gathers to himself both breath and life, then all flesh alike will perish utterly, and men will be dissolved back into dust, whence they were born long ago.

If you have an understanding mind in your breast, Job, save yourself, and listen to me, and cast my word into your heart.

Shall he indeed be a ruler, to whom righteous ordinances are not dear, who hates justice, and has he not perished while doing wicked deeds? Who was most righteous, surpassing all others, and they say he spoke justice most uprightly — and would you dare to judge this one, and to reproach him to his face?

Is it then, in due measure, O lord, that one says, 'You are a wretch and a sinner'? Are you reckless, you rulers? For who, being a clear-voiced speaker, would have dared thus to reproach kings with insulting words?

How does it no longer befit God to have spoken these things? Who rules over all mortals and immortals, who does not respect the august faces of kings, nor has regard for the wealthy; For the poor man before him is equal to the rich man, and has obtained an equal honor; For all alike are the work of their hands.

Suddenly he covered them with the end of death together with these, and the tribes of mortals shuddered in the dead of night; and straightway they perish helpless, and the lords, hurled from their seats, took the vast ground with their teeth, subdued not by a mortal but by the blow and hand of God.

For his eyes are upon the ways of men, and being all-seeing, they range over the gates, watching the insolence and the lawfulness of men. Peering at each one, he saw all the footprints of men.

There is no darkness so great in shadowy chambers below, where the fates of black death dwell apart, that it could wrap around impious men, even if someone wished to do something hidden from God.

If anyone should grieve because of the evils that he has done, and you should punish him unjustly, and God should smite him, yet he has suffered nothing more than is right, so that he may contend with God and come face to face with him in judgment because of this outrage; for the Fury is most just.

And he smote countless tribes of mighty kings, and cast down the worthless upon lofty thrones. For thus the Olympian apportions wealth to men, to the good and to the bad, just as he wishes, to each one.

But he well knows their violence and reckless deeds, and down upon them in the middle of the night he cast with heavy hand; and they, being wounded, were left in the dust, prone in the dust they were left, and they perished.

He struck down the openly wicked, where the people were most numerous, so that all might see and tremble at God's visitation; and here let one then say, seeing another near him, 'Evil deeds do not prosper; fate overtakes the sinner; so may another also perish, whoever would do such things.'

Because they turned their footstep away from God, and turned back, and drew far back, and it is no concern to them in their hearts how much he did, and how much he accomplished against them, and they did not heed his commands.

These men insult, and an unquenchable cry of wretched poor arose, whom they wear down with violence, and a certain cry reached heaven and cast down upon God. The poor man would cry out, and God would hear his prayers.

When he grants calm, who will bring terror? Who will behold him, when he hides his face, whether when he brings calamity upon many, being angry with men and people, or upon one alone?

He did not allow a deceiver to rule among men (the scepter and the ordinances which he gave to kings), lest a devourer-of-the-people wear down the citizens with evil plots, one who always cares for mischievous deeds, lest the people be entangled in the snares of the treaders, lest haply caught like in a net without a mesh, in an all-catching one, they become spoil and prey for hostile men.

Therefore you must, O Job, say such things to God: "Be gracious to me, O King, and put a gentle spirit in me; Alas for me, because I suffered many things and toiled much! No longer will I sin, lest I suffer something worse. Come then, show me also that which I myself cannot see;

But if ever I erred, trusting in foolish wits, I would no longer go on sinning, and there will be a respite from evil for me.

Is this how it shall be, as is dear to your heart? But indeed these things lie among the races of God; For indeed, whether you wish it, you will pay the penalty, or whether you refuse, 'Not I.' Therefore you too declare whatever you know.

But rather let the prudent and wise, whoever they are, who among mortals are distinguished in their shrewd minds, speak, and let them take heed of my words.

Job is a fool, since he speaks windy nonsense, and he has spoken many things in vain, such as an understanding man would not. Thus indeed no thanks is crowned about with words.

"O our Father, O King, highest of rulers, would that you might test this Job even to the end, and I would wish it, and it would be far more profitable, because by his own words he is an advocate of sinners."

He added rebellion to his grievous wickedness, knowing stubborn counsels, and he did not obey God's counsel; And he clapped with his hands, and heaped reproaches on us, and with his own mind he spoke many disorderly words, foolishly, and not in order, to strive against God himself.

Thus he spoke; And they all then were silent, nor did anyone dare to answer, for they knew well that they were harsh; In silence they held themselves, and again he spoke a word;

Alas, did you, being good though you are, speak outrageously? And you uttered a very arrogant word, as you declared, 'I for my part claim to be more righteous than God'; Do you think that you spoke this word according to what is right?

But let it be so, even if you said it: For what great benefit will there be, or what profit is there now for me, cleansed of my transgressions? Or what does it avail me, since I have learned to be good?

Therefore, answering, I will pour forth a truthful voice, and I will speak plainly both to you and to your companions. For one must speak out the word bluntly, both what I truly think and how I expect it to be accomplished.

Look up at the sky, which, high aloft above the earth, is spread out starry; and consider in your heart the clouds, which are borne far above you and hover in the air. Of these there is one height; God's seat is forever secure; it is as far above as the sky is from the earth.

And what have you done to him that is beyond remedy, when you sin? Or in what many transgressions have you done it to him? Or do you too, Job, yourself reap the fruit of your wickedness?

But even if you yourself give something in turn, what are you to your own people, O righteous one? Or what profit is there for him? Or what has he received from your hand? Him neither the good man nor the bad man harms or benefits.

Your wickedness will soon reach the sons of Adam, such as you yourself are, and you will plant evil for men; Your good order would avail mortal men, whether by word or by deed, bringing favor to humans.

Many arrogant and reckless men there are, who, yielding to violence, knowingly oppress the poor with their oath-breaking and force; from those being violated an unceasing groaning has arisen, and they are dragged off. And still, while he acts violently, his mighty-working arm rages, which does not regard God.

Nor does anyone pass through these things, nor inquire, saying, 'Where is God who made me, who am nothing, and who appointed me, when I am to him toil and work, who gives a sweet song in the rainless night?'

Who teaches understanding to men, and manifold counsels, and gave to us to be more in mind than the beasts of the field and the birds of the air?

There both wailing and prayer of men arose together, while hubris was being destroyed, and on account of overweening ruin; but God sat silent, and like one who hears.

For neither does the heavenly Father, being kindly disposed, fix his mind on vain words, and on empty grief; Nor did the Immortal ever hear the voice of an empty-minded man, when he regarded a man who might babble windy things.

Even if you said, 'I cannot yet see him face to face'; Easily and ever-knowingly does God prove himself, who is in his works, whose footprints are all-shining, and his beams are ever-jealous. Beside him is justice, beside him is judgment, and also ordinances. Therefore do you, taking courage, obey him greatly, and turn yourself back.

But now, since Job is not thus trusting in God, who has made him wretched, harsh, and miserable. But that man, struck in his heart with great grief, did not know, nor did he understand what such a feast profits him, the wretch, which he holds according to fate by the will of God.

Therefore Job is a babbler and a man of measureless speech, from whose tongue indeed a most reckless utterance flowed. He speaks many things exceedingly, but not with understanding.

Thus Elihu spoke; and he answered him with a word, falling upon him: Therefore speak again, and do not cease any longer from declaring;

Bear with me a little while, wait in silence, and I will recount to you the whole truth, since I still have more to say on God's behalf face to face.

Beginning from afar, uttering wise counsels, I will speak, revealing the ancient oracles of which we have learned; I will set forth the ordinances of the heavenly King, and I will recount his justice and good order, who fitted me together skillfully, knowing well the crafts of building.

Shall I lie, or shall I speak the truth? My heart urges me on. For it is shameful for one who knows clearly to speak with lies. Truly I will speak to you, and I will not weave falsehood. And beside you is set one who has reached the summit of knowledge, who knows both the things that are, and the things that will be, and the things that were before.

God is mighty, and his strength is not feeble; but he has not neglected the lowly race of men, nor did he despise mortals though they be ever so weak. Truly he is very mighty; who could match his fury? So he is over all in life, and over noble minds, both a good king and a mighty warrior.

But of the sinners, whose cruel deeds are their care, he did not preserve their life, and he did not save the wicked, but they themselves perished by their own reckless follies. For the wretched poor man he cares greatly, and he pities him, rendering justice well, and warding off heart-grieving outrage.

Never did he turn his gentle gaze away from the pious, and his eyes are always upon righteous men, and he set the upright on lofty thrones, so that they might obtain honor among mighty kings; there he established them continually, and they were raised up.

And if ever they were bound in collars and in fetters, and bonds of grievous toil were poured around them;

Meanwhile he revealed it to them, and wisely showed forth all the evils they had done in the follies of their mind, both their ruin and their grievous transgression.

And he opened their ears, and skillfully placed dense counsels in their hearts, so that they might not forget his commandments, but might keep their step turned back away from evil.

If thereafter they obey (since to obey is better), reverencing in their own hearts both his commandments and himself; Then indeed they shall fill up their life, in much festivity, and with sweet joys as the years roll on;

But if they disobeyed utterly against his hateful-like decree, a sharp sword shall destroy them, and shall deprive them of dear life, and they shall perish ingloriously through follies of mind.

But those who devise deceit are helpless and worthless, and they spun wrath for the evil man unto his fated day; For they do not even send up prayers to broad heaven, if ever the Immortal has laid a grievous bond upon them.

By this they are cut off beforehand, before they come to the threshold of old age; the ill-fated die, and their life wastes away swiftly amid the vile, in the midst of a crowd of fornicators.

But he delivered the poor man from affliction and misery, and in all his toils he stood by him and guarded him. And he opened their ears, when violence and insolence came upon them.

So too would he have led you easily out of the narrow place into a broad room, and that which was set before you would have been full of fatness. And you kept casting your hands upon the ready viands set before you, eating the goat's fly-defiled feast of the table.

But you eagerly accomplished the baneful counsels of the wicked; therefore I do not think you are safe, but now evil nemesis and fate overtake you.

Dreadful indeed is his wrath; so fear the anger of God, lest he strike you and take away your honey-sweet life.

For all that, you will not persuade him by bringing countless ransom. Not even if you gave him ten times and twenty times as much, as much as ever was yours before, and even if other things came from somewhere; but not even so was his own heart ever going to consent, to release his dear soul, and to accept the ransom. But all are to be rejected by God, his glorious gifts, as many as one might give eager to draw out his soul — in vain. For he does not care for that, since he has no concern for wealth, nor indeed are so many talents of gold dear to him; His strength and might count neither in word nor in number; For he is exceedingly mighty, more than all men.

Do not yet long for the night, when peoples perish by some sudden fate together in their own land; For no one can escape evil from God, nor through the night.

Consider, do not in your mind look upon worthless things, nor let transgression be a care to you in your heart, for you have chosen folly instead.

Easily and ever-known to God does strength become for men, those to whom he wished to grant surpassing glory. Who could weave a counsel that wards off evil, as he himself does? Who could match him as a teacher in knowledge?

Who guided his path for him like a escort? And who taught him well, so that it might turn out far the best? Or who will ever reproach him for his work, for all that he has done, contending against him, saying, 'Because you did not do this well'?

But you, never forget to marvel at his works, and to magnify them, which men always behold;

For they are manifest to all; what mortal could fail to know them? Easily indeed a willing man might survey them from afar, and nowhere does he gaze with dimmer eye from his head.

He is exceedingly great, and we still know him; Such and as great as he was, alike good and great; For God is hard for a mortal man to know; His life is imperishable, but who knows the number of his years?

He poured down the finest gifts of finely-dropping dew, and watery drops to the earth; But the air, thankless, after the moisture of the earth has fallen, sucks it back up again, fattening a fitting recompense, whenever it gives rain, a surplus equal to the vapor, pouring out the wetness which it had before drained from the ground.

The massy cloud is melted by the sun, and straightway it pours thick drops upon men, and a most violent water.

Who could understand the work of the cloud-gathering lord, with what kind of clouds he whirls the wide heaven around, how he spread out a cloud over the sky like a divine tapestry in his own tent, and great Olympus thundered?

At one time the sky was shadowy, and at another the clear air spreads out cloudless, and a bright gleam has run over it. At another time with a dark cloud he covered the depths and roots of the sea, and the deep grew murky beneath it.

For often the Father is accustomed to punish humans with thick clouds for grievous transgression, on a summer day, when a great rainstorm with a wondrous squall comes upon them, and the works of humans diminish. And often again he nourishes the life-giving grain with clouds. As long as there are waterings through thick drops ever freshly coming from a hollow cloud, and they fly from heaven upon the spring flowers, and some swarm here in abundance, and others there, so long will great abundance of all fruits be about to come afterward, and the threshing floors weigh heavy greatly.

With purple clouds he wrapped Olympus around the body of the Sun, and he cast about it a shadowy mist, like a fine well-spun tunic, and drew it up into the light as the cloud went forth;

At this, both as the thunderbolt bursts and is destroyed, a dreadful crash arose, and the wide heaven bellowed; And the cattle announce with a single-voiced cry the vapor, which they perceive rising up from the earth.

At these things my heart still beats within my breast, as I fear exceedingly, and my mind trembles within me; And as when the West Wind, coming on, stirs the deep cornfield, rushing fiercely, and it nods with the ears of grain; So my heart was stirred within me as I pondered.

But come, understand quickly the voice of God as he speaks; let his loud-bellowing, echoing sound fall upon you, which from his throat poured forth a much-resounding voice.

That one guided it straight under heaven, and taking the lightning in his hand he shook it from gleaming Olympus, and it, hurled by the swift-whirling stroke of God, ever flashing with dreadful gleams, flew. Darting very swiftly through the upper air, straightway it reaches the boundless earth, and the tribes of men tremble.

Meanwhile a voice thunders from heaven, and beneath it the whole world crashed, and an unquenchable roar arose. Then the High-Thunderer thundered greatly, and around him Olympus resounded terribly, and the boundless upper air bellowed, and the heavenly seat trumpeted, and the broad earth crashed, and beneath, the lord of the dead, Aidoneus, shuddered.

And the Father thundered terribly with a voice that breaks men, and having thundered he hurled a terrible bright lightning bolt, and a terrible crash arose from the flashing thunderbolt. How great are the things he himself has done, which we cannot comprehend.

He who spoke to the snowstorm, 'Pour down upon the ground,' and soaked the earth, 'Go, rush forth, no longer stay idle in the clouds.' So he spoke; and the earth feared, and obeyed his word; Straightway thick snowflakes fall to the ground, and like wool they are poured out upon the life-giving field, and there the earth is warmed, gleaming in its fleecy mantle. And in like manner the Father commanded the rain and the storm, and they straightway pour forth, trembling at his rebuke.

There he put an end to toil, and checked the hands even of those eager for works, and there came a respite from labor; So that wretched mortals may know well what he has done.

On that day the beasts lie down beneath the earth's hollows, and they couch in their hollow dens.

From the south, from the bright-shining one, a whirling storm arose, sending forth with a shrill blast a god-driven roar, lashing the dust-cloud with a hurricane about the paths; And it, rushing down, stirs the violet-dark sea; and the great wave which it nourishes rolls on, and the foam is scattered aloft by the blast of the much-wandering wind. Cold comes by the blast of the clear-sky-born North Wind, which ever smites the earth with chilling gales.

By the breath of God frost comes, icy-cold, and swiftly the wave of the fair-flowing river is frozen, being pressed together, and a smooth ice spreads over it.

It wears down the thick cloud with streams of water, and it was grieved as it was fed, and it is forced into the water-pregnant bosom. And at another time again he scattered upon the much-nourishing earth the gleamings of the clouds, and the smoky missiles.

All these things are whirled about by the will of the great God, and on both sides the earth was rolled in an unceasing whirl, and the counsel which he enjoined upon them he fulfilled unerringly across the earth and across the world, and it obeyed his word.

Whether then he drives the impious with a mighty whip, or, gracious, pursues his much-burning land with rains, and warms the heart in the breasts of the pious.

Hear me, Job, and sit quietly a little while in amazement and silence, and lay up in your heart the wondrous marvels and dreadful works of God.

Do you know how God set the shadowy clouds, and again brought forth light from the scattered clouds?

Do you know indeed how the balanced clouds hang on high, weighed down by rains and waters? What wonders he does — are his thoughts not sound, and his mind most high, knowing counsels about all things?

How were your garments overheated, and the earth was warmed, so that it slept gently away from the north wind and other scorching winds, except for the gentle south wind, to which God sent it to blow with a soft breeze?

Did you really stretch out the bright upper air along with him? Or did you spread out the sky, all of bronze, above the earth, gleaming and firm, like a cast mirror?

But now you instruct us and grant us a word, for we do not yet clearly know how we shall answer him. So great is the mist in our breasts.

Who then could show him my word? if one should speak, like the flashing of a divine vision.

The light beneath the clouds — could a mortal behold it? — and the eye that darts keenest from the head does not see it. But a rushing wind shook the shadowy clouds and blew with a clear-sounding whip, and cleansed the sky; and straightway it scattered the mist and drove off the fog. And from it all the watchtowers appeared, and the lofty headlands, and the glens, and from heaven the boundless upper air burst forth.

Out of the north, brighter than gold, the cloudless sky is spread with fair weather; and the white calm came to the sea. At this, beneath the blast, the boundless sky smiled with gleams; and all the earth around laughed, shining with radiance, and the flock rejoiced in heart. How one dread glory belonged to the Most High, and to him both most radiant light and awful faces?

We cannot find out the nature of God who exists forever, even though we search with great eagerness and inquire; He who was adorned with strength, and whose might is not to be assailed, who excels all in good order and in justice and in righteousness of mind, and never wished to vex a man overbearingly, as do the proud insolent men who wear others down by force, overstepping bounds.

Therefore mortals on earth tremble before him, reverencing the King, whose mind takes no pleasure in men, nor does he respect anyone who has shrewd counsels in his heart.

Thus he spoke bluntly; and his companions stood speechless, marveling at the speech; for very mightily he had spoken out. But then God himself also spoke to Job out of the whirlwind, and he shook great Olympus;

Who is this that hides counsel by words without knowledge, foolish, and not knowing how to speak aright with his mind? For he did not speak well; so it seems to me he will recover his senses. O blessed one, is it hard for you to draw out the counsels of the ever-living God, though you are very knowing?

But come now, take courage, and cast your belt about your waist; be a man, dear friend, and remember your furious valor. Tell me, who am asking, the truth, and do not conceal it, since your spirit urged you to bring strife against God.

Tell me, if you understand, where were you when I laid the unshaken foundations of the rugged earth?

And who then set its boundaries? Who measured it with a measuring-line (if indeed you know), and stretched it out upon a level, well and skillfully? Or where were its balances hung, equal in weight, and it does not tilt this way and that?

How were its foundations fastened? Who at the beginning laid its first stone, and rooted it beneath?

When the morning stars sang together with wondrous songs, which are the fairest stars in heaven? And all the sons of God together shouted aloud exceedingly, rejoicing in joy, hymning their own father; and around them the great heaven trumpeted, and they echoed back.

Truly who shut in the resistless sea with doors, while it was yet an embryo, and from the subterranean hollows it gushed forth in a stream, and as from a womb it rushed out? And a dreadful roar of the resounding sea, terrible, arose as the newborn one rushed forth?

Around it, as a cloak, they cast a cloud, and a tunic; Dark-mantled mist was like a swaddling-band for it.

There gates and bars bound it, as I appointed before, and jutting headlands, strong defences, and around it the wave roared with rushing surge, and a smooth rock ran up; And the water bubbled greatly, and the sea murmured; Bound by a great shore, which indeed held even itself back, though it rushed eagerly in the foremost place.

For when I gave command, and rebuked and addressed you, "O Ocean, hold your fury — and why do you rage no longer bearably?" Come now, going forth, much-resounding one, and see — do you not pierce through these bounds? There hold your stream fast, and check your over-swollen waves; But if I catch you overstepping this barrier with a bold wave, then this too shall be even worse for you. So I spoke; and he checked his stream, and held back his wave.

Was it you who once appointed the dawn, and commanded the twilight to know its place and likewise to keep its appointed hour? And have you sent forth the saffron-robed dawn from heaven, so that it might shine upon the far-distant ends of the earth, so that by your wise directions the wicked, nameless, reckless men might quickly perish miserably headlong from the broad-wayed earth?

Or when it has stripped off the one black cloud of night, immediately it becomes all-manner of things, a great wonder to behold, smiling with all-varied hues and shapes; with bright-gleaming forms, much-embroidered, like clay which a potter cunningly fashions with well-fitting front; And the fair meadows laugh their fill, wearing a purple cloak and a flowery tunic.

There the insolence of men and baneful deeds are revealed. For by my will the light has utterly perished from the impious, and the strong arm has been broken from the shoulder.

Have you ever gone down to the springs of the Ocean? And the unsearchable depths and the watery foundations of the sea? Or have you trodden the abyss of the sea and the boundless swell?

Were the gates of shadowy destruction opened for you? And have you seen the misty portals of hateful night? Or does the perishing shadow dwell in the hall of death?

But come, tell me this, and recount it exactly: do you know the breadth of the world, and does this concern you, to how far the circle has run round the wide earth?

And where does the light dwell? Where are its people and its city? Where does the darkness have its home? And where is the chamber of the mist?

So that you may lead it home, having learned where its path is, if ever you might see it wandered away from its native land.

Do you really know these things well, since you are long-lived, and were born first of all, and know the most?

Have you ever seen the storehouses of snow with your eyes? Or the treasures of much-resounding hail?

For hostile war these grievous missiles of mine lie always ready, with which I strike the heads of enemy men, and against whom I am angry on a baneful day.

Where then is the light divided under the starry heaven, and where does the broad-stretched east wind hasten? Or whence, having come, is the sun's strength scattered abroad, when, raging with a wondrous storm, it has risen greatly from the unharvested ether?

Who has given channels to the rains and a course to the shower, and to the dread thunder, when it crashes from heaven, and to the solid thunder, and has driven a shining path?

So that it may wet the untrodden plain, and the grievous and desolate land, with abundant rain and blooming dew.

The earth, which before was thirsty and pathless, has now been satiated with the rich fruit-producing rain, so that in the spring season it may plant beautiful shoots, rejoicing with flowers of every kind.

Who is the father of rain? Whose offspring does the rain know? From whose womb and blood does it claim to be?

Or who has begotten the immortal drops of dew? Who gave birth to the ice and nourished it, being such? And who is its mother? And from whose womb did the frost come forth, when the frosty night was, who gave birth to the cold hoarfrost?

As if with stone the waters were stopped up, and the stony streams stood frozen by the cold, and the hard surface was fixed fast; and then still the water rolls, well-closed, in its season.

Do you know clearly how to make the Pleiades rise, and the Hyades, and the late-setting Boötes, and the Bear, which they also called by the name Wagon, which turns itself and watches Orion, and all the other constellations with which the sky is crowned, each in its own season? Can you bind the sweet-shining Pleiades as they rise with a rushing chain, or pour down as a sweet stream the rainy Hyades, or loose the strength of Orion, and the wintry bonds of sturdy Boötes?

Can you guide the zodiac signs well in the star-shining circle, and the old Arcturus with his sons, so that they, entering heaven, may fulfill their course according to due order?

Do you know the unwearying wheel of the aether, how the spheres are borne rolling around the pole? And will he accomplish among earth-dwellers a gracious recompense of deeds unceasingly as the years roll round?

Are you then bronze-voiced? Will you lift up your voice to the sky with a spear, as much as nine thousand or ten thousand bellow terribly, so that the many waters may cover you, Peploe, as the clouds melt from heaven?

Will you send a messenger to the earth, a blazing thunderbolt, saying, 'Go, speak'? And did you hurl from the clouds the rushing lightning and fiery bolts?

Who put understanding in the breast, who placed the mind within? Or who gave to the knowing mind the nature of oaks, and the works of living creatures?

Who knows the unspeakable number of the rain-bearing clouds? Or who tilts the heavenly water-jars, pregnant with waters, so that they may not sprinkle the fields with ambrosial drops, when the fiery-bright pillar flashes?

When the earth was frozen fast, and the clods of the land were clotted, on the day when the most dust covered all around?

Will you hunt prey and booty for the mighty lions? Will you appoint for them and their cubs a hunger-mingled feast? And will you satisfy the craving of the cubs for drink and for food, while they lie hidden in a thick thicket, lurking in subterranean caves?

Who has prepared a meal for the ravens that lack it, when through the meadow the nestlings, helpless young, wander to and fro for want of food, and call upon God, sending forth a harsh cry?

Do you know when the wild rock-goats give birth? Or when the race of fawn-bearing does are in labor?

Do you know the number of the months which they fulfill, being pregnant, bearing every month, and do you know the season of their bringing forth?

They crouch down and give birth, bringing forth their dear young; and the sharp shaft of the birth-pangs' Eileithyia holds them, both Fear and mighty Terror, bringing on bitter pangs.

Their children are well-fed and fully satisfied with food, and growing easily they shine with sleek limbs, and gently from their bed they creep on tiny feet, and when by grievous childishness they have wandered away from their parents, they no longer remember to urge their step back home.

Who set the wild ass free, unmastered, having loosed its bonds—the swift one, storm-footed, strong-hoofed, the steep-dwelling wild ass?

For him I made a home in a desert land, and he dwelt alone upon the barren earth.

Far from the crowd the city-hater straightway wanders, shunning the people, and he has fled the great din of the throng, nor ever did he heed the mighty threat of a violent master, a shepherd's; nor does he pay heed to the shout, nor to the driver.

In the glens of the mountain he ever wanders seeking the newly-sprouted grass, and from the green herbage he had his pasture; the all-nurturing earth feeds him to satiety.

Fool, do you think that you can tame the wild unicorn, so that it might be your own exceedingly great possession, and your own, eating white barley like an ox at the manger?

Or, like an ox, will you put a halter on it along the furrow under the yoke, to draw, so that it might cut the straight furrow in the broad fallow land, and the clod might yield under the plough?

In this, then, do you trust in its strength, because its power is pre-eminent? Because you are strong, will you entrust your works to him?

Do you say that he will carry off the fruit of your perfect harvest? And to bring it home, as the year rolls round, (is it the way of slaves, and of straight-horned oxen) to thresh it well in a well-built threshing floor?

Did you give beautiful broad-feathered wings and shining plumage to the straight-rumped, long-winged peacocks? With which, exulting in their wings and in their own beauty, they overshadow the whole body with a circling, dappled form, sprinkled with thick eyes here and there, a wonder to behold; Do you give wings and feathers to the ostrich?

But when she has laid a single egg, she leaves it on the ground, and does not warm her offspring, covering it round with her dear wings, as is the custom for birds; But these are warmed in the soft dust by the rays and are stolen away by the sun.

Foolish one, she does not know this in her mind, nor did she understand when the wild beasts, meeting her, would have seized her as a hapless bed, and would have dashed her down under their feet.

A mother, a cruel mother, and having a harsh spirit, who as it were is bereft of her children, so that she does not know her offspring. her heart is iron indeed. Because when she had in vain, just so, escaped the mighty pangs of grievous childbirth, the cruel one neglected her young, nor did she spare them lest they suffer anything.

For God did not give her understanding in her breast, nor did he allot her skill, and he did not grant her good wits.

Or when she flutters in the air and in the clouds, as is the custom of other birds that soar aloft, and lifts her shaggy head and breast on high, as it were equal, spreading her wings like sails and canvas, she runs swiftly over the land with the blasts of the wind, like some self-moving ship on foot, for which alone, renowned for their deeds, there are steersmen behind. And having driven alongside, she laughs alike at horseman and horse, swifter than both to run, and greater than the one in pursuit.

Is it truly you who gave strength to the warlike, valiant horse, swift, bronze-hoofed, strong-clawed, dark-maned? Around him it bristles a shaggy neck with thunder; and his breast is massive, his frame long, his back broad, his tail curved like a scorpion's; and he darts exulting through the plain, and holds his head on high, and around his shoulders the manes stream, and he, trusting in his splendor, swiftly bears himself along, and far off his hairs are terrible.

Do you really terrify it like a cicada, which, sitting on a tree throughout the wood, sends forth its lily-like voice, and whenever it sees any one coming, or hears a noise, it is terribly frightened, and pale fear seizes it? It remembers flight, and forgets its lively song. How do you stir up fear and terror in its breast? But he, snorting, snorts up a great blast; with his feet he has dug out the glens for the horses, trusting in his strength; marching over the plain he has met a dense phalanx, dread, bristling with shields and spears; and he rushes to mingle in the baneful battle as quickly as possible.

Nor then does fear hold him, harmless as he is, nor does he tremble overmuch, as soon as he has settled himself against a band of men. For neither can he, as he shies away, fight with a naked foe, nor strike, nor watch for the bridges of war, beneath the flash of bronze and the gleam of the sword.

Terribly, right before them, he glares with unblinking eye upon the warriors, at the ambush thickly set with spearmen, and at the gleaming bronze and the flashing iron. And he went through the front ranks; then indeed, facing him, the bow twanged, the quiver rattled, and the arrow rang out; and around his shoulders the all-shining armor crashed, and the gleam reached heaven, and the phalanxes were stirred; and they stood there massed against him, close-fighters, having thrust spear against spear, shield against shield set layer on layer.

But he went among the foremost, exulting in his strength; and his eyes blazed fiercely beneath his scowling brows, flashing like the gleam of burning fire, and foam came about his mouth as he fought. With his feet he has been roused to wage war, where he snorts in the dust, and with his nostrils he gulps down the ground. And his chest was stirred, and his mane tossed on high, and beneath his armor a dust-storm rose rushing. But whenever the trumpet, herald of war, cried out, and the warlike pipe sent forth its battle-stirring voice, then he pawed the ground, longing for war, and was roused standing upright, and did not stand still on his feet, and at the clear sound of the trumpet rushing on, he says he hears it, for fierce madness has entered him.

Amid the trumpets he neighs very greatly, terrible, exulting; And he exults in his heart with joy, smelling the battle-cry and the fray from afar, the thunder of leaders and the war-shout of those fighting.

By your wisdom does the swift-winged hawk rise to fly, the kestrel, when it brings slaughter to the little birds, and flutters toward the south exulting in its wings?

And at your command the great eagle, the high-flyer, cleaves the sky, which is preeminent among all birds, and high in the clouds it has fixed its shameless nest?

He dwells on a jutting rock and a misty crag, on a lofty, great one, and he abides on a cleft rock, on a steep, sturdy one, where his home and shelter are.

There no sea-watching lookout sits, nor from expectation does he peer in every direction, if perhaps he might catch a great prey; but from afar from a lookout he saw a corpse with his keen eye, for he gazes sharpest of the birds above.

His flesh-eating young he fed with glistening fat, and they have always consorted with the dead.

So spoke the holy might of the Immortal unrelentingly; nor did he cease from words any longer, but again he spoke a speech, and again he answered Job, and rebuked him and addressed him: 'Who now would dare to strive against God face to face, and to lay before him counsel and understanding of mind?'

He will repay threefold and fourfold, whoever would dare to reprove him. For it is grievous to contend against the Olympian. And the children of the wretched will meet my word.

So he spoke. But glorious much-enduring Job shuddered, and stood silent before God, and a dread terrible fear came upon him. And at last he addressed him, and spoke a God-persuaded word:

Woe is me, wretched, and the most refutable of the living! Shall I myself open my foolish mouth against the Immortal? It is not possible, nor is it fitting for you, Father, to speak in reply; Therefore I wish to press my hand upon my mouth.

Truly I spoke once, and a second time again I spoke; But no longer did my spirit in my breast dare to speak a second time in reply, but it urged me to sit in silence, still, since it is far better so.

Then God, answering him, spoke with a sweet voice out of the midst of the whirlwind; broad heaven trembled beneath him, he shook upon his throne, and he made great Olympus quake.

O good sir, be a man; gird your loins about your waist; take courage, and do not be at all greatly afraid in your heart; tell me truly when I ask, and do not conceal it.

O sir, will you really now make my counsels vain idle things? But do you really think my sharp mind and purpose cannot pass by a cowardly mortal, nor catch him out? Will you indeed justify yourself, judging against me?

Is your arm indeed, like God's, stretched out great? Who is it that also, having brandished about a fiery thunderbolt, and thundered terribly from the sky, like that one, with a loud-roaring voice? and having brandished lightning together with your hand?

But come now, if you can match my strength, then shine, clothed in divine might of splendor, gleaming with beauty and graces and flashes, smiling with grim countenances, and cast glory about you, and clothe yourself with wondrous light upon your face.

Scatter your wrath, your sharp anger, your indignation, and your ruin over all the earth; wherever you saw proud men, cast them down, and there especially direct your avenging eye;

Strike them, looking askance, so that each falls to the ground, men overweening and tongueless, whoever they are; From their seats drag down the wicked, so that they too, prone in the dust, may bite the earth with their teeth.

Trample with your heel upon their breasts, and beneath their feet hide them together in the dust, the wicked tribes of mortals who overflow with pride; Bind them head-down, and let darkness cover their eyes.

Meanwhile I will gladly yield, nor will I refuse, since your right hand has granted you a mightier boast.

But now behold the monstrous elephant, mighty-limbed; truly it was fashioned a great marvel, and it is not like a mountain-dwelling beast, but like a wooded mountain-height of lofty peaks, or even a shadowy cloud. Him too he made along with you, so that he might eat the fruit of the field. For he is not a robber among the beasts, nor any devourer, though he be such and so great in body, but ever he grazes in the green and rich pastures, like a herd ox in an asphodel meadow.

Irresistible strength and might attend his flanks; in his lowest belly and navel there is power.

Its tail is indeed like a cedar, and he whirled it about very swiftly with ease; His testicles are bound with well-woven joints, and they are drawn tight with sinews and twisted cords and fibres.

His skin resembles bronze, and his body gleaming iron; his ribs and limbs are fitted with stout bones, as with bronze bolts and iron bars.

And among the works of God he boasts that he is greatly pre-eminent, and among the wild beasts he is by far the mightiest; He who indeed fashioned him armed him, as it were with a sword, with a great snout, both twisted and crooked; They used to call it a proboscis.

But he is not flesh-eating, nor wild, nor blood-stained; but the mountains have abundantly given him fodder, where all the beasts leap together facing him, and no one is afraid of him nor fears him, when he sees an elephant.

Trees give him cover with their high foliage, a shady forest; there the reeds and the marsh lie hidden in a dense thicket, and in the watery meadow of a great marsh.

Beside the roaring river, around the rustling reed-bed, there deep-shaded tall trees tend him, poplars and elms and willows that lose their fruit, which grow abundantly around the fair streams of the river.

Often a river has drunk it down, gulping with insatiable [throat], and has ravaged the stream — the sheer torrents of the Jordan — he boasts that he will easily, very easily, gulp them with his sturdy jaws.

Who could subdue this one with well-woven nets, and capture him openly, and pierce through his nostril with a hook? But I will tell you another wild wonder, a sacred [creature] of fishes, a mighty sea-monster of the deep, a great marvel of the sea; (For not only the land breeds monsters, but the sea too)

Can you draw him out of the sea with a line, and with gleaming bronze, and put a hook around his tongue?

Can you pierce his nose, so full of gulfs, with curved hooks, and fix a great spike around his jaws?

But will he, being appeased, charm you with vows and gentle supplications? And will he vow to you to be a suppliant, speaking with soft and wheedling words?

Will he indeed, bringing you favors, give soothing charms to your heart? Will he make a covenant, cutting oaths, so that after catching him alive you may hold him in a servant's lot?

Will you really make him a plaything for infants? Will you tie him up like a bird, sweetly, with a shining cord, and give him to maidens, so that you might be a plaything for them?

Will your loving comrades devour him at a feast, and will they carve a glorious banquet from his flesh? Or, since he is great, will they cut him limb from limb and send him to the fishmongers, one place and another, who in turn will sell him and take a vast price?

Will you pierce all around the hide of the dread monster with sharp javelins and with two-edged spears? Or will you wound his flesh with jagged-toothed, many-barbed iron, and his head with far-barbed tridents?

But come, with your own hands lay hold of his back with a mattock, since with gentle force you would only subdue him alone; Give way, and do not remember the battle, but cease from your rush.

If anyone wishes to lay him low by guile or by force, yet he fails utterly, and his hope is lost; for the beast is a grievous evil for a man to subdue, dreadful, grim-eyed, implacable, nor would anyone rejoice to see him, so great is he to look upon.

Is there no one with such a heart in his own breast as to rouse him, whoever is so bold-hearted? and boldest of all; who of me, who could endure to stand Antion before him with a great-hearted spirit?

Who, having come first, gave me a fitting answer, so that I too, (truly, as is right,) might repay him a twofold, gracious recompense for what he has done, and that he might receive from me a heart-pleasing wage? For all things are mine, all that heaven has encompassed.

But still I will tell you of the great sea-monster, the wonder of the sea, and I will not hide it from you, nor yet the tale — how its limbs, how its mighty frame, how its growth, how its wondrous form.

Who dragged it from the sea to the dry shore of the mainland, and showed its dread form in its scaly coat? And who, having put his hand upon it, casts a double bridle around it?

Who has fixed stakes in its curved jaws, and in its gullet? And its gates were opened like double-folding doors, and they were lofty; and its dreadful jaws bellowed with a terrible gaping, and fearsome teeth stood round about on both sides, close-packed and crowded, more numerous than black death.

He exults in his bronze scales, firmly rounded, like the engravings of a well-fitted seal.

And these are poured close upon one another, so that not even the finest air can slip in between.

As when a man fits a wall with close-set stones of a lofty house, shunning the violence of the winds; As then helmets and bossed shields were fitted together, so that in war the close-packed ranks were thrown into confusion, shield pressed on shield, helm on helm, or tortoise-shell on Arthēn; as on it the scales were fitted around its bronze back, each to the other, and neighbor pressed on neighbor, so closely are they grown together in unbroken union.

And when from his nostrils a deep-roaring snorting was burst forth, fire blazed, and a terrible flash of flame appeared, and his eyes that flashed like the dawn were like them in his eyelids.

From his mouth torches and unquenchable flame were poured forth in vain, and from it many sparks leaped out.

As when smoke flows from a tripod or a cauldron, which seethes greatly within, urged on by the soothing fire, melting with fat, and quickly its blast reaches heaven; Thus from his nostrils smoke flows as he breathes terribly.

Into his mouth and nostrils a fire-breathing furnace leaps, and flame gushes around, and a swift torch is kindled.

His strength is in his neck, and his might is not feeble; and around his sturdy neck boundless valor settles. A great joy comes to them all at once, but grief to sailors. He delights, treading upon the back of the sea, where, eager to sport in the grim storm, he leaps over the purple wave, and frisks in the midst of the wine-dark deep, exulting just so, even if he is ill-tempered.

The folds of his flesh are unbroken and unloosed around his limbs, and his frame is well fitted together, and a firm belly has risen up over his mighty breast, all of bronze, ever secure.

And his heart is firmer than stone, like an unyielding millstone, and his mind is dark all around.

And he was like a tower above the sea. But when he rose up, a dreadful one appeared; at once the sailors trembled in their heart, terrified, for they are borne but a little away from death, mighty though they be, when they saw the mighty fish; and they cleansed themselves, when the salt water cut them, and the monstrous sea-monster broke through the nourishing waves.

If anyone struck him in the body with a sword, he did not notice, nor did he break his hide. and the point was bent back. Or he hurled a missile, and it fled from his hand in vain. Bronze spears, long lances, shafts, and javelins were dashed against his skin, and the bronze blade was driven off from the bronze.

He thinks the blazing iron is like a reed, and unyielding bronze is like a dry stick of wood.

He does not flee, nor is he frightened by the feathered arrow. Like chaff that is on well-rolled threshing floors, which the wind and the rush of the winnower carry away. As stones which they seem to be, which a man hurled with a sling, shooting them; and his onset seemed to him vain.

As he, going on, pays no heed to javelins, and he thinks them equal to chaff, or to be air; and as from a ship the might of the wind scattered them. But if someone, brandishing it, hurls a long-shadowed spear, yet he, laughing aloud, would mock the man's rush, paying no heed, as if a woman or a foolish child should strike him.

Beneath him sharp crags are fixed, and around him rocks and cliffs and jagged pointed stones, which he pierced above the mire, like a bed in the broad sea, on which the great one lay stretched out mightily.

And as when water seethes in the midst of gleaming bronze, boiling up from every side, and beneath it lie the dry crackling sticks; And the fire busied itself about the cauldron, and the water grew hot; as a cauldron; it boils within, hastened by much fire, and bubbling with myrrh and nine-year-old ointment; As the wave of the much-resounding sea, churned up, seethed on high for the swimmer, and the deep foamed, roaring with foam, and the salt water bubbled up, and it swelled aloft, and the wild swell of the sea boiled.

And he goes, but behind him a great shining abyss; for him even as he breaks it roars greatly, and around his own curved wave with its crest, and he spits out the foam of the sea, and to Apheidea appears the path of the grey sea; you would say you were looking at the head of a grey-templed old man, or a milk-white circle even in the waters.

In no way did any beast upon the much-nurturing earth come to completion, nor in the depths of the sea, to be likened to him — neither in body, nor in nature, nor in might, nor in any form. So was his heart in his breast bold and fearless.

Exulting greatly in strength and might he sprang up, and he kept gazing at all things lofty, and among the proud he boasted that he was a king, and greatly pre-eminent among monsters.

Then much-enduring noble Job answered him, bending his heart back, and spoke a God-persuading word:

I know that you are mighty, and you can accomplish all things, (for your wonders are everywhere over dry land and sea) and no one among mortals has frustrated your purpose.

Who is this that hides counsel with ignorance of mind, foolish (as you said) and not knowing things aright in his thoughts? I erred myself, and I did not speak according to what is right — many years and even so; and disease and those things commanded it, and painful folly, things which I did not see nor understand, many unspeakable wonders. For you are a God of crooked counsel; nor could any mortal draw back your gifts. But, O Lord, have mercy, and if any dreadful word has been spoken, let the storm-winds snatch it up and carry it off at once.

I know you, Father; do you also give heed and listen to me, and now recount to me the whole truth, and teach me your close counsels, that I may learn; and be to me a speaker of words and a reckoner of deeds.

I used to hear of you in time past, and I listened with the ears of report; but now my eye has seen you face to face. Know that you are noble and divine; awe holds me as I look upon you.

Therefore I loathed myself, being foolish, seeing what I have done, like a fool, since I am the most shameful among men. But since I erred, trusting in wretched thoughts, therefore, wrapped in dust and in ashes, rolling over and over, I now come to you and to your knees, grieving as I weep, and I am greatly distressed, at how I erred. Woe is me, wretched that I am! But do you put on a gracious heart.

So he spoke, shedding tears. And a whirlwind seized the Almighty King. But when they were speaking such things to one another, God, having grown angry, addressed Eliphaz the Temanite (for he was indignant at the divine man), and kept rebuking him with a word: "Alas, surely I am exceedingly angry with you and your companions, and wrath has fallen upon my spirit." Wretched men, you have spoken like foolish children, who have no understanding in their minds. You have not spoken rightly about me, as my servant Job has. Whenever a man wishes to strive with the Deity on behalf of a mortal, one whom God honors, swiftly a great calamity rolls upon him.

But you too, be persuaded, since to obey is better, and take from the herd seven oxen, rolling-footed, curved-horned, as fast as possible, and seven rams, thick-fleeced. And go now to Job, so that on account of your folly you may perform noble sacrifices upon much-lamented altars, and my servant Job may pray duly, if perhaps he may be gracious to you and himself give acceptable gifts always to me; and now I know that he will give. Him I loved with all my heart, and he honors me, preeminent above others. For whoever obeys me, I have heard him well. Otherwise again I think that you will soon have your fill, because your minds are not steadfast, nor according to what is right, as my servant Job — you have spoken about me.

So he spoke; and Eliphaz the Temanite did not disobey God, nor did Bildad the Shuhite, nor Zophar the Minaean; But they sacrificed and, with abundant offerings and savory fat, turning him aside, they soothed the wrath of the Immortal; Then indeed Job prayed to God — to God he prayed — and he heard his prayers, and loved him more, and granted him favor.

Thus he prayed on behalf of his friends; And God loosed the bonds of his dread misery, and granted him twice as much wealth as he had before, and gave him other things from elsewhere.

All his brothers came of their own accord in a throng, and all his own sisters, and kinsmen by marriage, and clansmen; and those who had been his most honored and dearest before stood by him always at feasts and banquets in his own halls, and with consolations they soothed his mind, and with winning words they healed his grief, and comforted him, and lamented what he had suffered, and how he had toiled in misery by the will of God — (such a thing some other mortal on earth endured) — and they gave him a necklace of silver and gold, glowing gifts, a comfort for his evil ruin.

So then Job was more blessed than before, twice as wealthy and twice as happy-fated, as much as he had at first, by the will of the great God. For indeed he had afterward twice seven thousand sheep, fat and thick-fleeced, and high-crested camels twice four thousand grazing for him in the mountains, females with young (and all these had been made double), and twice fifty yoke of broad-browed oxen, and twice fifty donkeys, and all things far more abundant.

But also his ten children were in the halls; Seven were sons, and three fair-haired daughters.

Of these, the one was called by the famous name Jemimah, the First, because the night of misery had passed, and day had come; And after her the younger was Kassia, lovely — Kassia, a beautiful name, whose fragrance was most gracious; And the third they called fair-tressed Keren-Happuch, because he gave her a splendid horn of antimony as a name.

And adorned with beauty and with graces they shone among women, and easily stood out among the field-faring folk. Nor would any of the neighboring maidens have wished to contend with Job's daughters in lovely beauty; To them their father assigned a portion together with their brothers, apportioning it, and gave countless dowries.

But Job thereafter, alive and sound, saw a hundred and forty years rolling by in great splendor, and children still flourishing on both sides, and children of children, down to four generations.

Thus then he gladly reached the end of his life, dying late, and caught in the extreme of old age.