answer.

Man, of woman born

Is of few days, and full of misery.

Forth like a flower he comes, and is cut down,

He fleeth like a shadow. What is man

That God regardeth him? The forest tree

Fell'd by the woodman may have hope to live

And sprout again, and thro' the blessed touch

Of waters at the root put forth new buds

And tender branches like a plant. But man

Shorn of his strength, doth waste away and die,

He giveth up the ghost and where is he?

As slides the mountain from its heaving base

Hurling its masses o'er the startled vale,

As the rent rock resumes its place no more,

As the departed waters leave no trace

Save the groov'd channels where they held their course

Among the fissur'd stones, his form of dust

With its chang'd countenance, is sent away

And all the honors that he sought to leave

Behind him to his sons, avail him not."

He ceas'd and Eliphaz rejoin'd,

"A man

Of wisdom dealeth not in empty words

That like the east wind stirs the unsettled sands

To profitless revolt. Thou dost decry

Our speech and proudly justify thyself

Before thy God. He to whose searching eye

Heavens' pure immaculate ether seems unclean.

Ask of tradition, ask the white hair'd men

Much older than thy father, since to us

Thou deign'st no credence. Say they not to thee,

All, as with one consent, the wicked man

Travaileth with fruitless pain, a dreadful sound

Forever in his ears; the mustering tramp

Of hostile legions on the distant cloud,

A far-off echo from the woe to come?

Such is his lot who sinfully contends

Against the just will of the Judging One,

Lifting his puny arm in rebel pride

And rushing like a madman on his doom.

The wealth he may have gathered shall dissolve

And turn to ashes mid devouring flame.

His branch shall not be green, but as the vine

Casteth her unripe grapes, as thro' the leaves

Of rich and lustrous hue, the olive buds

Untimely strew the ground, shall be his trust

Who in the contumacy of his pride

Would fain deceive both others and himself."

To whom, the Man of Uz,—

"These occult truths

If such ye deem them, I have heard before;

Oh miserable comforters! I too

Stood but your soul in my soul's stead, could heap

Vain, bitter words, and shake my head in scorn.

But I would study to assuage your pain,

And solace shed upon your stricken hearts

With balm-drops of sweet speech.

Yet, as for me,

I speak and none regard, or drooping sit

In mournful silence, and none heed my woe.

They smite me on the cheek reproachfully,

And slander me in secret, though my cause

And witness rest with the clear-judging Heaven.

My record is on high.

Oh Thou, whose hand

Hath thus made desolate all my company,

And left me a poor, childless man—behold

They who once felt it pride to call me friend,

Make of my name a by-word, which was erst

Like harp or tabret to their venal lip.

Mine eye is dim with grief, my wasted brow

Furrow'd with wrinkles.

Soon I go the way

Whence I shall not return. The grave, my house,

Is ready for me. In its mouldering clay

My bed I make, and say unto the worm

Thou art my sister."

With unpitying voice

Not comprehending Job, the Shuhite spake.

"How long ere thou shalt make an end of words

So profitless and vain? Thou dost account

Us vile as beasts. But shall the stable earth

With all its rocks and mountains be removed

For thy good pleasure?

See, the light forsake

The wicked man. Darkness and loneliness

Enshroud his dwelling-place. His path shall be

Mid snares and traps, and his own counsel fail

To guide him safely. By the heel, the gin

Shall seize him, and the robber's hand prevail

To rifle and destroy his treasure hoard.

Secret misgivings feed upon his strength,

And terrors waste his courage. He shall find

In his own tabernacle no repose,

Nor confidence. His withering root shall draw

No nutriment, and the unsparing ax

Cut off his branches. From a loathing world

He shall be chased away, and leave behind

No son or nephew to bear up his name

Among the people. No kind memories

Shall linger round his ashes, or refresh

The bearts of men. They who come after him

Shall be astonish'd at his doom, as they

Who went before him, view'd it with affright.

Such is the lot of those who know not God

Or wickedly renounce Him."