Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A VERSION OF PART OF THE SEVENTH CHAPTER OF JOB, by MARGETTA FAUGERES


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A VERSION OF PART OF THE SEVENTH CHAPTER OF JOB, by                    
First Line: As sighs the labourer for the cooling shade
Last Line: "let me alone -- my days are vanity!"


As sighs the labourer for the cooling shade,
When glowing sunbeams scorch the verdant blade;
Or as the hireling waits the scanty sum,
By the hard hand of painful labour won;
So waits my spirit with anxiety,
Death's calm approach from woe to set me free;
For oh! my days are spent in vanity,
And nights of sorrow are appointed me!

I love not life, it is a burden grown;
Distress and Care have claimed me for their own,
And pale Disease, with unrelenting hand,
Sports with my sighs and casts them to the wind.
In vain doth night return to bless these eyes,
Sighing I say, Oh! when shall I arise?
When will the night be gone? Convulsed with pain
I raise my eyes to heaven for aid in vain;
My heart grows faint, and tossing to and fro
I waste the lonely hours in sullen woe.
Or if indeed my eyes should chance to close --
And weary nature gain a slight repose,
Then am I scared with terrifying dreams,
Wild shrieks I hear, and melancholy screams;
While hideous shapes crowd on my troubled sight,
Adding new terrors to the gloom of night.

Oh! I'm forlorn, in bitterness of soul
My cries burst forth, like floods my sorrows roll!
Forgot, abandoned, destitute, alone,
No pitying ear inhales the heart-wrung groan;
No friendly converse my sad spirit cheers,
No feeling breast receives my bitter tears;
Gone is each comfort, -- hope itself is fled, --
O that I rested with the quiet dead!
No glimpse of good mine eyes again shall see,
"Let me alone -- my days are vanity!"





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