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, 

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