Job · Chapter 30

[ edit] Now forſoþe ſcorne me þe ȝungere in time, of whom I deynede not þe fadris to ſitte wiþ þe hondis of my floc. Of whom þe vertue of hondis to me was for noȝt, and þei weren trowid vnwrþi þat lif. And þurȝ nede and hunger barein; þat gnowen in wilderneſſe, waxende foul wiþ wrecchidneſſe and ſorewe. And þei eeten erbis, and þe rindis of trees; and þe roote of iunypere trees was þe mete of hem. Þe whiche of þe valeis þeſe þingus takende; whan alle þingus þei hadde founde, wiþ cri þei runne to þoo þingus. In deſertis of ſtremys þei dwelten, and in dennes of þe erþe, or vp on grauel. Þe whiche among ſuch þingus gladeden, and to ben vnder buſſhis counteden delicis.

Þe ſonus of foolis and of vnnoble men, and in þe lond not fulli perende. Now forſoþe I am turned in to þe ſong of hem, and I am maad to hem a prouerbe. Þei wlaten me, and ferr floun fro me, and to ſpute my face þey ſhame not. Forſoþe his arwe girdil he openede, and tormentide me, and he putte a bridil in to my mouþ. At þe riȝt of þe eſt my wreccheneſſes anoon riſen; þei turneden vpſodoun my feet, and opreſſeden as wiþ flodis bi þer ſties. Þei ſcatereden my weies, and waiteden to me, and hadden þe ouere hond; and þer was not þat broȝte helpe. As þe wal broken and þe ȝate opened þei fellen in on me, and to my wrecchidneſſis þei ben myche boowid to.

I am broȝt in to noȝt; as þe wind he haþ taken awei my deſyr, and as a cloude paſſide myn helþe. Now forſoþe in myſelf welewiþ my lif, and welde me þe daȝis of tormentinge. In þe nyȝt my mouþ is þirlid þurȝ wiþ ſorewis; and þat eten me, ſlepen not. In þe multitude of hem my cloþing is waſtid, and as wiþ a coler of a kote þei girten me. I am compariſound to clei, and am licned to a ſparke and to aſkis. I ſhal crie to þee, and þou ſhalt not heren; I ſtonde, and þou beholdeſt not me. Þou art chaungid to me in to cruel, and in þe hardneſſe of þin hond þou art aduerſarie to me. Þou haſt rered me, and as vp on wind ſettende þou haſt hurtlid me doun myȝtili.

I wot, for þou ſhalt take me to deþ, wher is ſett an hous to alle liuende. Nerþelatere not to þe waſting of hem þou puttiſt out þin hond; and if þei falle, þou þi ſelf ſhalt ſaue. I wepte ſum time vp on hym þat was tormentid, and my ſoule hadde compaſſioun to þe pore. I abod goodis, and þer camen to me euelis; I abod liȝt, and þer breeken oute dercneſſis. Myn entrailis brenden out wiþ oute any reſte; befor wente me þe daȝes of torment. Dreri I wente wiþoute wodneſſe, riſende in þe puple I criede. Broþer I was of dragouns, and felawe of þe half beſte half foul. My ſkin is bleckid vp on me, and my bones drieden for hete. Myn harpe is turned in to weiling, and myn orgne in to þe vois of weperis.