Will the Wild-Ox be pleased to be thy servant? or lodge for the night by thy crib?

The wing of the Ostrich that waveth itself joyfully, Is it the pinion of lovingkindness or the plumage?

Knowest thou the season when the Wild Goats of the crags beget? The bringing forth of the hinds, canst thou observe?

Couldst thou give - to the Horse - strength? Couldst thou clothe his neck with the quivering mane?

Or, at thy bidding, that the Eagle mounteth, and that he setteth on high his nest?

Who hath sent forth the Wild Ass free? And, the bands of the swift-runner, who hath loosed?

Canst thou bind the wild-ox, so that - with the ridge - shall run his cord? Or will he harrow the furrows after thee?

Is it, by thine understanding, that the Bird of Passage betaketh him to his pinions? spreadeth out his wings to the south?

And, his young brood, suck up blood, and, where the slain are, there, is he.

As oft as the horn soundeth, he saith, Aha! And, from afar, he scenteth the battle, - the thunder of commanders and the war-cry.

For she leaveth - to the earth - her eggs, and, on the dust, she letteth them be warmed;

Whose house I have made the waste plain, and his dwellings, the land of salt:

Against him, whiz the arrows of the quiver, the flashing head of spear and javelin;

He diggeth into the plain, and rejoiceth in vigour, he goeth forth to meet armour;

Dealing hardly with her young, as none-of hers, In vain, her labour, without dread.

For GOD hath suffered her to forget wisdom, and given her no share in understanding.

With stamping and rage, he drinketh up the ground, - he will not stand still when the horn soundeth;

Wilt thou put faith in him, that he will bring back thy seed? and that, corn for thy threshing-floor, he will gather?

Their young become strong, they grow up in the open field, they go out, and return not unto them.

Couldst thou cause him to leap like a locust? The majesty of his snort, is a terror!

He laugheth at dread, and is not dismayed, neither turneth he back, from the face of the sword;

The crag, he inhabiteth, and so lodgeth himself, on the tooth of the crag, and high fort;

He espieth the mountains, his pasture-ground, and, after every green thing, maketh search.

What time, on high, she vibrateth her wings, she laugheth at the horse and his rider.

He laugheth at the throng of the city, The shoutings of the driver, he heareth not;

From thence, he searcheth out food, far away, his eyes do pierce;

Wilt thou trust in him, because of the greatness of his strength? Wilt thou leave unto him thy toil?

And hath forgotten, that, a foot, may crush them, - or, the wild beast, tread on them!

They kneel down, their young, they bring forth; their pains, they throw off;

Canst thou count the months they fulfil? Or knowest thou the time when they give birth?