Septuaginta, Job, ed. Henry Barclay Swete D.D., 3

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Μετὰ τοῦτο ἤνοιξεν Ἰὼβ τὸ στόμα αὐτοῦ

καὶ κατηράσατο τὴν ἡμέραν αὐτοῦ

λέγων

Ἀπόλοιτο ἡ ἡμέρα ἐν ἧ ἐγεννήθην,

¹²

καὶ ἡ νὺξ ἐκείνη ᾗ εἶπαν Ἰδοὺ ἄρσεν.

ἡ νὺξ ἐκείνη εἴη σκότος,

καὶ μὴ ἀναζητήσαι αὐτὴν ὁ κύριος ἄνωθεν,

μηδὲ ἔλθοι εἰς αὐτὴν φέγγος·

ἐκλάβοι δέ αὐτὴν σκότος καὶ σκιὰ θανάτου,

ἐπέλθοι ἐπʼ αὐτὴν γνόφος.

καταραθείη ἡ ἡμέρα ⁶καὶ ἡ νὺξ ἐκείνη,

ἀπενέγκαιτο αὐτὴν σκότος·

μὴ εἴη εἰς ἡμέρας ἐνιαυτοῦ,

μηδέ ἀριθμηθείη εἰς ἡμέρας μηνῶν.

ἀλλὰ ἡ νὺξ ἐκείνη εἴη) ὀδύνη,

καὶ μὴ ἔλθοι ἐπʼ αὐτὴν εὐφροσύνη μηδέ χαρμονή·

ἀλλὰ καταράσαιτο αὐτὴν ὁ καταρώμενος τὴν ἡμέραν ἐκείνην,

ὁ μέλλων τὸ μέγα κῆτος χειρώσασθαι

σκοτωθείη τὰ ἄστρα τῆς νυκτὸς ἐκείνης·

ὑπομείναι, καὶ εἰς φωτισμὸν μὴ ἔλθοι,

καὶ μὴ ἴδοι ἑωσφόρον ἀνατέλλοντα.

ὅτι οὐ συνέκλεισεν πύλας γαστρὸς μητρός μου·

ἀπήλλαξεν γὰρ ἂν πόνον ἀπὸ ὀφθαλμῶν μου.

δμὰ τί γὰρ ἐν κοιλίᾳ οὐκ ἐτελεύτησας

ἐκ γαστρὸς δὲ ἐξῆλθον καὶ οὐκ εὐθὺς ἀπωλόρην

ἵνα τί δὲ συνήντησάν μοι τὰ γόνατα

ἵνα τί δὲ μαστοὺς ἐθήλασα

νῦν ἂν κοιμηθεὶς ἡσύχασα,

ὑπνώσας δὲ ἀνεπαυσάμην

μετὰ βασιλέων βουλευτῶν γῆς.

οἳ ἠγαυριῶντο ἐπὶ ξίφεσιν,

ἢ μετὰ ἀρχόντων, ὧν πολὺς ὁ χρυσός,

οἳ ἔπλησαν τοὺς οἴκους αὐτῶν ἀργυρίου,

ἢ ὣσπερ ἔκτρωμα ἐκπορευόμενον ἐκ μήτρας μητρός.

³⁵

ἢ ὥσπερ νήπιοι οἱ οὐκ εἶδον φῶς.

ἐκεῖ ἀσεβεῖς ἐξέκαυσαν θυμὸν ὀργῆς.

ἐκεῖ ἀνεπαύσαντο κατάκοποι τῷ σώματι·

ὁμοθυμαδὸν δὲ οἱ αἰώνιοι

οὐκ ἤκουσαν φωνὴν φορολόγου.

μικρὸς καὶ μέγας ἐκεῖ ἐστιν,

καὶ θεράπων δεδοικὼς τὸν κύριον αὐτοῦ.

ἵνα τί γὰρ δέδοται τοῖς ἐν πικρίᾳ φῶς,

ζωὴ δὲ ταῖς ἐν ὀδύναις ψυχαῖς ;

οἳ ὀμείρονται τοῦ θανάτου καὶ οὐ τυγχάνουσιν,

ἀνορύσσοντες ὥσπερ θησαυρούς·

περιχαρεῖς δέ ἐγένοντο ἐὰν κατατύχωσιν.

θάνατος ἀνδρὶ ἀνάπαυμα,

συνέκλεισεν γὰρ ὁ θεὸς κατʼ αὐτοῦ.

πρὸ γὰρ τῶν σίταων μου στεναγμὸς ἤκει,

δακρύω δὲ ἐγὼ συνεχόμενος φόβῳ.

φόβος γὰρ ὃν ἐφρόντισα ἦλθέν μοι,

καὶ ὃν ἐδεδοίκειν, συνήντησέν μοι.

οὔτε εἰρήνευσα οὔτε ἡσύχασα οὔτε ἀνεπαυσάμην,

ἦλθεν δέ μοι ὀργή.

Job. Septuaginta. ed. Henry Barclay Swete D.D.. United States. 2017.

Funding provided by Harvard Library Arcadia Fund.

Current edition First1KGreek

Ἰώβ (Greek) (Septuaginta. The Old Testament in Greek According to the Septuagint. Volume 2: I Chronicles-Tobit. Swete, Henry Barclay, editor. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1896.)

Editions (1)

Homeric Greek (James Duport, 1676) (OCR draft) Experimental (James Duport, Threnothriambos: a Homeric Greek verse paraphrase of Job (1676).) — 3.1 focus

ΔΗΝ δ' ἄνεῳ σύμπαντες ἔσαν τετιηότι θυμῷ·

Ὀψὲ δὲ δὴ μετέειπε πολύτλας δῖος Ἴωβος,

Πυκνὰ μάλα στενάχων, στυγέων δὲ γενέθλιον ἦμαρ·

Πολλὰ κατηρᾶτο· κρατερὸν γάρ ἑ πένθος ἄνωγεν·

Οἶκτρ' ὀλοφυρόμενος, γοερῶς δ' ἐφθέγξατο

μῦθος·

Ἐῤῥέτω ἄθλιον ἦμαρ ἐν ᾧ με λοχεύσατο μήτηρ·

Νύξ θ', ὅτ' ἐμῷ γενετῆρι δυσάγγελος ἄγγελος εἶπε,

Χαῖρέ μοι ἄππα πέπον, ὠδῖνας ἄλυξεν ἄκοιτις,

Σόι τ' ἄρσεν τέκος ὧδε πέσεν μετὰ ποσσὶ γυναικός·

Ὡς ἔφατ' ἀγγέλλων· εἴθ' οἱ χάνεν εὐρεῖα χθών.

Ὀρφνη καὶ σκότος ἔστω ἀλάμπετον ἦμαρ ἐκεῖνο·

Μὴ μελέτω καθύπερθε Θεῷ, ἄλογον δὲ πέλοιτο,

Τῷ καὶ μήποτ' ἔχοι γλυκερὸν φάος ἠελίοιο,

Ἀλλὰ σκιὼ θανάτοιο, καὶ ἀχλυόεσσαν ὀμίχλην·

Ἠέει καὶ νεφέλῃ αἰεὶ κεκαλυμμένον ἔστω,

Ὡς στυγερόν, κακὸν ἦμαρ, ἀπαίστον, οὐκ ὀνομαστόν,

Δεινόν τε, δνοφερόν τε, μελάντερον ἠΰτε πίσσα.

Νύκτα δὲ Κιμμέριος ζόφος ἀμφέποι, ἐκ δ' ἐνιαυτοῦ

Μηνῶν ἐξαπόλοιτ', ἰδὲ μὴ ἐναρίθμιος εἴη·

Νὺξ ἥ γε κακή, φρικτή, σκοτομήνιος, ἠδὲ κατακλάς·

Μηδέ τις εἰν αὐτῇ φωνὴν χαρίεσσαν ἀκούοι.

Οἱ τόδε δυσφημεῦσι κακόν, καὶ σχέτλιον ἦμαρ,

Τήν τ' ὀλοὴν ἅμα νύκτα καταράσοιντο μέλαιναν,

Οἱ στοναχὴν μέλλουσι, γόον τ' ἀλίαστον ὀρίνειν.

Ἀστέρες ἑσπέριοι λιποφεγγέες εἶεν ἐκείνῃ,

Μήτε φάος λαμπρόν, μήτ' αἰγλήεσσα σελήνη·

Μήτε ποτ' ὄρθρον ἴδοι, μήτ' ἂρ τερψίμβροτον ἠῶ·

Οὕνεκα μητείης γαστρός μοι ἀνῷγε πυλῶνας,

Οὐδ' ἄσβεστον ἐμοῖς ἄχος ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἀμύνει.

Τίπτε μοι οὐ τάφος ἔσκε δυσαμμόρῳ ἔνδοθι γαστρός;

Ἤλυθον ἐκ νηδύος· ὡς ὤφελον αὐτόθ' ὀλέσθαι.

Ὧμοι μῆτερ ἐμή, τί νύ μ' ἔτρεφες αἰνὰ τεκῆσαι;

Τίπτ' ἐκ ἐκβέβληκας, ἐπεὶ τέκες υἱὸν ἄποτμον;

Τίπτε δέ μ' ἀρτιγενῆ, καὶ ἔτι πνείοντα τόκοιο,

Γούνασιν δῖα λαβοῦσα δυσώνυμος ἔφθατο μαῖα;

Ἔρρε τρισάθλιε μαῖα μογοστόκε· τίπτε με μαζὸς

Νηπίαχον θήλασε καὶ ἔτρεφε τυτθὸν ἐόντα;

Ὡς μ' ὄφελ' ἤματι τῷ, ὅτε με πρῶτον τέκε μήτηρ,

Οἴχεσθαι προφέρουσα κακὴ ἀνέμοιο θύελλα

Εἰς ὄρος, ἢ εἰς κῦμα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης,

Ἔνθά με κῦμ' ἀπόερσε πάρος τάδε ἔργα γενέσθαι.

Νῦν ἂν ἀτάρβητος γαίης μαλακῷ ἐνὶ κόλπῳ

Κείμην ἀσφαλέως τε, καὶ ἀτρέμα κοιμησαίμην.

Ὁππόθι μυρία φῦλα Διοτρεφέων βασιλήων,

Κείατ' ὁμῶς, λαῶν δ' ἡγήτορες ἠδὲ μέδοντες,

Καὶ βουληφόροι ἄνδρες ἀωτεῦσι γλυκὺν ὕπνον·

Οἷς ποτε δώματα καλά, κακῶν ἀπάτερθεν ὁμίλου,

Χρύσεα, μαρμαίροντα τετεύχαται, ἄφθιτα αἰεί.

Ὁππόθι κακκείασι μεγακλήεντες ἄνακτες,

Οἳ χρυσὸν τιμῶντα, καὶ ἄργυρον ἐκτετάπισσαν,

Ὄλβον τε πλητόν τ' ἀπερείσιον οἷς ἐνὶ οἴκοις.

Ὡς ὄφελόν γ' ἔκτρωμα μάλ' ὠκύμορον γεγαῶτος,

Ὡς βρέφος ἠλιτόμηνον, ὃ οὔπω φέγγος ὄπωπεν.

Ἔνθά γε θυμοβόρος ἔριδος λήγουσιν ἀλεῖται·

Τῶν δέ θ' ὑπ' ἀργαλέῳ καμάτῳ φίλα γυῖα λέλυντο,

Παυστωλὴν εὑρόντες ἀναπνείουσι πόνοιο.

Τόσδε καὶ ἐν φυλακῇ χαλεπὸς πρὶν δεσμὸς ἐδάμνα,

Ἀτρέμας ἔνθ' ἅμα κείατ' ἀλυκτοπέδας προφυγόντες,

Οὐδέ ποθ' ὑβριστέω κρατερῆς ἄϊον ἐνιπῆς.

Ἔνθά γε πάντες ἔασ' ἅμα μικροί τε μεγάλοι τε

Μίγδ' ἀλλήλοισιν, καὶ ὁμοίης ἔμμοροι αἴσης.

Οὐκέτι τις θεράπων μεμνημένος δῖος ἄνακτος,

Εἴρερον ἀλλὰ κακὸν, καὶ δούλιον ἦμαρ ἄλυξεν,

Ἶσαι γὰρ σκιαί εἰσιν, ἄναξ ἠδ' ὃς ἐν χερὸς αἴσῃ.

Ἶση μοῖρα μέδοντι, καὶ εἰ μάλα τις πέλετο δμώς.

Τίφθ' ὁρόωσι φάος, καὶ ἔτι ζωοῖσι μέτεισιν

Ἄνδρες ὀϊζυροὶ καὶ ἀκηδέα θυμὸν ἔχοντες;

Ὡς ὅτε τις σπουδῇ κρύφιον θησαυρὸν ἐρευνᾷ,

Σκαπτέμεναι μεμαὼς, διζήμενος εἴπου ἐφεύροι·

Ὡς οἱ μὲν θανέειν ἔθελον, καὶ πότμον ἐπισπεῖν,

Διζόμενοι εἴπως θάνατόν γε δυναίατο τέτμειν·

Αὐτὰρ ἔτι ζώουσι, λιλαίομενοι περὶ ὀλέθρου.

Ἀσπάσιον τοιόσδε τέλος θανάτοιο κάλυψε,

Γηθόσυνον τε πέλει· μέγα κεν κεχαροίατο θυμῷ,

Ἡσυχίης γλυκερῆς ἐπιὼν λελάχωσι τάφοιο.

Τίπτε φάος, ζωή τε δυσαμμόρῳ, ὅς θ' ὑπ' ἀνίης

Πλάζεται ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα, καὶ οὐκ ἴδεν, ὅπποθι βαίνοι,

Οὕνεκά μιν τ' ἀϊδνῇ νεφέλῃ θεὸς εἶρξε μελαίνῃ.

Ὤ μοι ἐγὼ δειλὸς, τί νύ μοι μήκιστα γένηται;

Ὤ μοι ἐγὼ, ὅτι πρὶν φαγέμεν, στοναχῇ τε γόῳ τε

Θυμὸν ἀκηχέμενος κατέδω φίλον· ἐξ ἐμέθεν δὲ

Κωκυτός τε καὶ οἰμωγὴ κέχυτ', ἠΰτε κρήνης,

Ἥτε κατ' αἰγίλιπος πέτρης δνοφερὸν χέει ὕδωρ.

Πάσχω ἐγὼ πανάποτμος, ὃ ἐν φρεσὶ δείδια λίην·

Τοῦτο δὲ νῦν μ' ἐκίχανεν, ὃ πρὶν μάλα πολλὰ δέδοικα.

Καὶ γὰρ ἐγὼν ἐφάμην, πρὶν μόρσιμον ἦμαρ ἐπισπεῖν,

Ἄλγε' ἀναπλήσειν· τάδε δὴ νῦν πάντα τελεῖται.

Οὐ γάρ πω ἀμέριμνος ἔην πάλαι εὐθενέων περ,

Οὐδέ μοι ἐν θαλίῃσιν ἀτάρβητος νόος ἔσκεν,

Οὐτ' ἀδεὴς, αἰεὶ δὲ κακὸν προτιόσσετο θυμός·

Νῦν δέ τ' ἐελπομένῳ χαλεπή μοι ἐπῆλθεν ὀϊζύς.

Translations (3)

Job Perseus (World English Bible. Revision of the American Standard Version of 1901. Rainbow Missions, Inc., 2000-2024.) — 3 focus

After this Job opened his mouth, and cursed the day of his birth.

Job answered:

Let the day perish in which I was born, The night which said, there is a man-child conceived.

Let that day be darkness; Don’t let God from above seek for it, Neither let the light shine on it.

Let darkness and the shadow of death claim it for their own. Let a cloud dwell on it. Let all that makes black the day terrify it.

As for that night, let thick darkness seize on it. Let it not rejoice among the days of the year. Let it not come into the number of the months.

Behold, let that night be barren. Let no joyful voice come therein.

Let them curse it who curse the day, Who are ready to rouse up leviathan.

Let the stars of the twilight of it be dark. Let it look for light, but have none, Neither let it see the eyelids of the morning,

Because it didn’t shut up the doors of my mother’s womb, Nor did it hide trouble from my eyes.

Why didn’t I die from the womb? Why didn’t I give up the spirit when my mother bore me?

Why did the knees receive me? Or why the breast, that I should suck?

For now should I have lain down and been quiet. I should have slept, then I would have been at rest,

With kings and counselors of the earth, Who built up waste places for themselves;

Or with princes who had gold, Who filled their houses with silver:

Or as a hidden untimely birth I had not been, As infants who never saw light.

There the wicked cease from troubling; There the weary are at rest.

There the prisoners are at ease together. They don’t hear the voice of the taskmaster.

The small and the great are there. The servant is free from his master.

Why is light given to him who is in misery, Life to the bitter in soul,

Who long for death, but it doesn’t come; Dig for it more than for hidden treasures,

Who rejoice exceedingly, Are glad, when they can find the grave?

Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, Whom God has hedged in?

For my sighing comes before I eat, My groanings are poured out like water.

For the thing which I fear comes on me, That which I am afraid of comes to me.

I am not at ease, neither am I quiet, neither have I rest; But trouble comes.

English (DeepSeek, 2026) (OCR draft) Experimental (Machine-assisted English translation of James Duport's Homeric Greek verse paraphrase of Job.) — 3.1 focus

[1] 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;

[2] Lamenting piteously, he uttered his speech with wailing;

[3] 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.

[4] 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.

[5] 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.

[6] 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.

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

[8] 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.

[9] 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.

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

[11] 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.

[12] 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.

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

[14] 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.

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

[16] 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.

[17] 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.

[18] 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.

[19] 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.

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

[21] 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.

[22] 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.

[23] 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?

[24] 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.

[25] 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.

[26] 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.

Latin (James Duport, 1676) (OCR draft) Experimental (Duport's facing Latin translation of his Homeric Greek verse paraphrase of Job (1676).) — 3.1 focus

DIu autem muti ſimul omnes erant mœrenti animo:

Seróque tandem prolocutus eſt patiens divinus Jobus,

Crebrò admodum ingemiſcens,execrans autem natalem diem

Multùm imprecatus eſt (validus enim ipſum dolor impulit)

Miſerandum in modum lamentans, lugubres autem edidit

ſermones:

Malè pereat infelix dies in qua me enixa eſt mater,

Nóxque, in qua meo patri infelix nuncius dixit,

Salve mihi venerande amice, partûs dolores evitavit uxor tuâ,

Tibíque maſcula proles cecidit inter pedes mulieris.

Sic dixit nuncians: Utinam illi hiâſſet ampla tellus!

Caligo, & tenebræ ſit obſcuræ dies illa;

Nè curæ ſit ſurſum Deo, nullóque in numero habeatur,

Adeo nuſquam habeat dulcem lucem ſolis;

Sed umbram mortis, & ſpiſſas tenebras:

Caligine & et nebulâ ſemper obvoluta ſit,

Utpote inviſa, malè ominata dies, inauſpicata, non nominanda,

Terribilíſque, tenebroſáque, nigra velut pix.

Noctem verò illam Cimmeriæ tenebræ occupent, & et ex

Menſibus pereat, nec in albo menſium ſit: (anni

Sed nox mala, horribilis, obſcura, & et exitioſa:

Nec quis in ea vocem gratam audiat.

Qui illi maledicunt malæ & et infortunatæ diei,

Hanc quoque pernicioſam pariter noctem execrentur atram,

Qui gemitum luctúmque vehementem excitaturi ſunt.

Stellæ veſpertinæ obſcuræ ſint ei,

Nec lux ſplendida, nec fulgens luna:

Nec unquam diluculum videat, nec gratam-mortalibus aurorant.

Quoniam materni uteri mihi aperuit fores,

Nec immenſum meis dolorem oculis abſtulit.

Cur mihi non ſepulcrum erat infelici intra uterum?

Egreſſus ſum ex ventre; utinam ibi periiſſem!

Hei mihi, mater mea, utquid me nutriiſti poſtquam infeliciter

pepereras?

Quare non expoſuiſti, quandoquidem peperiſti filium infortunatum?

Utquid verò me recens-natum, & et adhuc ſpirantem partum,

Genibus ſuis accipiens infauſta prævenit obſtetrix?

Abi-in-malam-rem ter-infelix obſtetrix circa-partus-laborans.

Utquid me mamma

Infantem lactavit & et nutrivit parvulum exiſtentem?

Utinam me die illo, quo me primùm peperit mater,

Rapuiſſet, & et abſportâſſet pernicioſa venti procella

In montem, vel in undam reſonantis maris,

Ubi me fluctus mergerent, antequam hæc facinora patrata forent!

Nunc utique imperterritus telluris molli in gremio

Jacuiſſémque ſecurè, & et quietè dormiiſſem:

Ubi innumera turba nobiliſſimorum regum,

Jacent ſimul, populorum autem ductores & et principes,

Et conſiliarii viri carpunt dulcem ſomnum.

Quibus aliquando tecta pulchra, malâ ſeorſum à multitudine,

Aurea, ſplendentia extructa ſunt, perennia ſemper.

Ubi dormituriunt inſignes reges,

Qui aurum pretioſum & et argentum poſſederunt,

Opéſque & et divitias ingentes ſuis in ædibus.

Utin ā am partus-abortivus valde citò-periturus natus fuiſſem,

Ut embryo immaturus, qui nunquam lucem conſpexit!

Ibi ab animum-rodente contentione deſiſtunt improbi.

Quorum verò gravi labore chara membra ſoluta ſunt,

Ii requiem invenientes reſpirant à labore.

Quos etiam in carcere ſæva priùs compes domuit,

Quiete ibi ſimul jacent, poſtquam compedes effugerint,

Nec unquam oppreſſoris ſtrenuas audiunt minas.

Ibi omnes ſunt, tam parvi quàm magni,

Promiſcuè, & ſimilis participes ſortis.

Non ampliùs quis ſervus memor ſui heri,

Captivitatem ſed malam, & ſervilem diem vitavit.

Pares enim umbræ ſunt, rex proinde honoratur ac mancipi ũ um;

Æqualis ſors imperatori, & ei qui maximè erat mancipium.

Utquid vident lucem & adhuc vivis interſunt

Viri calamitoſi, & amarum animum habentes?

Sicut quando quis diligenter occult ũ um theſaurum ſcrutatur,

In fodiendo promptus, quærens ſicubi inveniat:

Sic hi quidem mori volunt & fato fungi,

Quærentes ſicubi mortem poſſint invenire:

Verùm adhuc vivunt, quantumvis cupidi mortis.

Gratus tales finis mortis texit,

Peroptatúſ q; que eſt: magnopere utique gauderent animo,

Quietis genitorem ſiquidem fortiti fuerint tumulum.

Ut quid lux vitá q; que miſero, qui ærumnâ

Jactatur hùc illùc, & non videt quò vadat,

Quoniam eum calamitatis nube Deus circumſepſit atrâ.

Heu me miſerum! quid mecum tandem fiet?

Heu me! quoniam antequam edo, gemitú q; que luctú q; que

Animum triſtis corrodo charum; ex me autem

Lamentatió q; que & ejulatio funditur, ſicut ex fonte

Qui ab excelſa petra obſcuram fundit aquam.

Patior ego infelix, quod in animo timui valde,

Hoc autem nunc me occupavit, quod priùs vehementer metui.

Etenim ego putavi, priusquam fatalem diem obirem,

Dolores me impleturum: ea certè nunc omnia perficiuntur.

Non enim ſecurus eram olim, bonis-abundans licèt,

Nec mihi in proſperitate imperterrita mens erat,

Nec timoris-expers; ſemper autem malum præſagiebat animus:

Nunc verò etiam timenti gravis mihi ſupervenit calamitas.

Notes on the current edition

Job

1. U+05D0Ac

3. U+05D0Αc

5. B

Septuaginta Job 3

ed. Henry Barclay Swete D.D.

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