James Duport, Job, 30.3

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[3] 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;

Job. James Duport. . .

Current edition Experimental

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

Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.

Editions (2)

Ἰώβ First1KGreek (Septuaginta. The Old Testament in Greek According to the Septuagint. Volume 2: I Chronicles-Tobit. Swete, Henry Barclay, editor. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1896.) — 30 focus

νυνὶ δὲ κατεγέλασάν μου·

ἐλάχιστοι νῦν νουθετοῦσίν με ἐν μέρει,¶

ὧν ἐξουδένουν τοὺς πατέρας αὐτῶν,

οὓς οὐχ ἠγησάμην ἀξίους κυνῶν τῶν ἐμῶν νομάδων.

καί γε ἰσχὺς χειρῶν αὐτῶν ἵνα τί μοι ;

ἐπʼ αὐτοὺς ἀπώλετο συντέλεια.

ἐν ἐνδείᾳ καὶ λιμῷ ἄγονος.

οἱ φεύγοντες ἄνυδρον ἐχθές συνοχὴν καὶ ταλαιπωρίαν·

οἱ περικυκλοῦντες ἅλιμα ἐπὶ ἠχοῦντι,

οἵτινες ἄλιμα ἦν αὐτῶν τὰ σῖτα·

ἄτιμοι δέ καὶ πεφαυλισμένοι, ἐνδεεῖς παντὸς ἀγαθοῦ.

ἐπανέστησάν μοι κλέπται,

ὧν οἱ οἶκοι αὐτῶν ἤσαν τρῶγλαι

πετρῶν·

ἀνὰ μέσον εὐήχων βοήσονται

οἳ ὑπὸ φρύγανα ἄγρια διῃτῶντο·

ἀφρόνων υἱοὶ καὶ ἀτίμων ὄνομα.

²⁴

καὶ κλέος ἐσβεσμένον ἀπὸ γῆς.

νυνὶ δὲ κιθάρα ἐγὼ εἰμι αὐτῶν, καὶ ἐμὲ θρύλημα ἔχουσιν·

ἐβδελύξαντο δέ με ἀποστάντες μακράν,

ἀπὸ δὲ προσώπου μου οὐκ ἐφείσαντο πτύελον.

ἀνοίξας γὰρ φαρέτραν αὐτοῦ ἐκάκωσέν με,

καὶ χαλινὸν τοῦ προσώπου μου ἐξαπέστειλεν.

ἐπὶ δεξιῶν βλαστοῦ ἐπανέστησαν,

πόδα αὐτῶν ἐξέτειναν καὶ ὡδοποίησαν ἐπʼ ἐμέ τρίβους ἀπωλείας

αὐτῶν.

ἐξετρίβησαν τρίβοι μου,

ἐξέδυσαν γάρ μου τὴν στολήν·

βέλεσιν αὐτοῦ κατηκόντισέν με,

κέχρηταί μοι ὡς βούλεται· ἐν ὀδύναις πέφυρμαι.

ἐπιστρέφονταί μου αἱ ὀδύναι,

ᾤχετό μου ἡ ἐλπὶς ὥσπερ πνεῦμα,

καὶ ὥσπερ νέφος ἡ σωτηρία μου.

καὶ νῦν ἐπʼ ἐμέ ἐκχυθήσεται ἡ ψυχὴ μου.

ἔχουσιν δέ με ἡμέραι ὀδυνῶν·

νυκτὶ δέ μου τὰ ὀστᾶ συγκέχυται,

τὰ δὲ νεῦρά μου διαλέλυται.

ἐν πολλῇ ἰσχύι ἐπελάβετό μου τῆς στολῆς,

ὥσπερ τὸ περιστόμιον τοῦ χιτῶνός μου περιέσχεν με.

ἥγησαι δέ με ἴσα πηλῷ,

ἐν γῇ καὶ σποδῷ μου ἡ μερίς·

κέκραγα δέ πρὸς σέ καὶ οὐκ ἀκούεις μου,

ἔστησαν δὲ καὶ κατενόησάν με·

ἐπέβησαν δέ μοι ἀνελεημόνως,

χειρὶ κραταιᾷ με ἐμαστίγωσας·

⁵⁶

ἔταξας δέ με ἐν ὀδύναις,

⁷

καὶ ἀπέρριψάς με ἀπὸ σωτηρίας.

οἶδα γὰρ ὅτι θάνατός με ἐκτρίψει·

οἰκία γὰρ παντὶ θνητῷ γῆ.

εἰ γὰρ ὄφελον δυναίμην ἐμαυτὸν χειρώσασθαι,

ἢ δεηθείς γε ἑτέρου, καὶ ποιήσει μοι τοῦτο.

ἐγὼ δὲ ἐπὶ παντὶ ἀδυνάτῳ ἔκλαυσα,

ἐστέναξα δὲ ἰδὼν ἄνδρα ἐν ἀνάγκαις.

ἐγὼ δὲ ἐπέχων ἀγαθοῖς, ἰδοὺ συνήντησάν μοι μᾶλλον ἡμέραι

κακῶν.

ἡ κοιλία μου ἐξέζεσεν καὶ οὐ σιωπήσεται,

προέφθασάν με ἡμέραι πτωχίας.

στένων πεπόρευμαι ἄνευ φιμοῦ,

ἕστηκα δὲ ἐν ἐκκλησίᾳ κεκραγώς.

ἀδελφὸς γέγονα σειρήνων,

ἑταῖρος δὲ στρουθῶν.

τὸ δὲ δέρμα μου ἐσκότωται μεγάλως,

τὰ δὲ ὀστᾶ μου ἀπὸ καύματος.

ἀπέβη δὲ εἰς πάθος μου ἡ κιθάρα,

ὁ δὲ ψαλμός μου εἰς κλαυθμὸν ἐμοί.

Homeric Greek (James Duport, 1676) (OCR draft) Experimental (James Duport, Threnothriambos: a Homeric Greek verse paraphrase of Job (1676).) — 30.3.1 focus

Οἳ πενίῃ λιμῷ τε φίλον τετιημένοι ἦτορ,

Οἰοπόλοι ἐφέβοντο διὰ χθονὸς ἀτρυγέτοιο,

Καππεδίον δέ τ' ἔρημον ἀλώμενοι ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα·

Ἦ, τ' αἰεὶ κραναὴ, λυγρή δέ τ' ἐφαίνετο γαῖα.

(Πλαγκτοσύνης δ' οὐκ ἔστι κακώτερον ἄλλο βροτοῖσιν.)

Οἱ δ' ἕνεκ' οὐλομένης γαστρὸς κακὰ κήδε' ἔχοντες

Πλάγχθεν, ἐπεί σφεας ἵκετ' ἄλη, καὶ πῆμα, καὶ ἄλγος·

Translations (2)

Job Perseus (World English Bible. Revision of the American Standard Version of 1901. Rainbow Missions, Inc., 2000-2024.) — 30 focus

But now those who are younger than I, have me in derision, Whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs.

Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, Men in whom ripe age has perished?

They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.

They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom are their food.

They are driven forth from the midst of men; They cry after them as after a thief;

So that they dwell in frightful valleys, And in holes of the earth and of the rocks.

Among the bushes they bray; And under the nettles they are gathered together.

They are children of fools, yes, children of base men. They were flogged out of the land.

Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.

They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, And don’t hesitate to spit in my face.

For he has loosed his cord, and afflicted me; And they have thrown off restraint before me.

On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet, They cast up against me their ways of destruction.

They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, Without anyone’s help.

As through a wide breach they come, In the midst of the ruin they roll themselves in.

Terrors are turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.

Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold on me.

In the night season my bones are pierced in me, And the pains that gnaw me take no rest.

By great force is my garment disfigured. It binds me about as the collar of my coat.

He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.

I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.

You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me.

You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.

For I know that you will bring me to death, To the house appointed for all living.

However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?

Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?

When I looked for good, then evil came; When I waited for light, there came darkness.

My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on me.

I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.

I am a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches.

My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.

Therefore is my harp turned to mourning, And my pipe into the voice of those who weep.

Latin (James Duport, 1676) (OCR draft) Experimental (Duport's facing Latin translation of his Homeric Greek verse paraphrase of Job (1676).) — 30.3.1 focus

Qui paupertate inediâq; inediâque charum afflicti cor,

Et per campum deſertum vagantes huc illuc,

Solitarii fugiebant per terram infructuoſam,

Quà ſemper aſpera, ſteriliſq; ſteriliſque apparebat terra.

Vagatione autem non eſt pejus aliud mortalibus.

Illi verò gratiâ pernicioſi ventris malos dolores ferentes

Jactati-ſunt, quandoquidẽ quandoquidem iis contigerit error, & damnũ damnum, & dolor?

James Duport Job 30.3

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