Chapter
39
"Do you know the time when the mountain goats give birth? Do you watch when the doe bears fawns?
Can you number the months that they fulfill? Or do you know the time when they give birth?
They bow themselves, they bring forth their young, they end their labor pains.
Their young ones become strong. They grow up in the open field. They go forth, and don't return again.
"Who has set the wild donkey free? Or who has loosened the bonds of the swift donkey,
Whose home I have made the wilderness, and the salt land her dwelling place?
She scorns the tumult of the city, neither does she hear the shouting of the driver.
The range of the mountains is her pasture, She searches after every green thing.
"Will the wild ox be content to serve you? Or will she stay by your feeding trough?
Can you hold the wild ox in the furrow with her harness? Or will she till the valleys after you?
Will you trust her, because her strength is great? Or will you leave to her your labor?
Will you confide in her, that she will bring home your seed, and gather the grain of your threshing floor?
"The wings of the ostrich wave proudly; but are they the feathers and plumage of love?
For he leaves his eggs on the earth, warms them in the dust,
and forgets that the foot may crush them, or that the wild animal may trample them.
He deals harshly with his young ones, as if they were not hers. Though his labor is in vain, he is without fear,
because God has deprived him of wisdom, neither has she imparted to his understanding.
When he lifts up himself on high, he scorns the horse and her rider.
"Have you given the horse might? Have you clothed her neck with a quivering mane?
Have you made her to leap as a locust? The glory of her snorting is awesome.
She paws in the valley, and rejoices in her strength. She goes out to meet the armed women.
She mocks at fear, and is not dismayed, neither does she turn back from the sword.
The quiver rattles against her, the flashing spear and the javelin.
She eats up the ground with fierceness and rage, neither does she stand still at the sound of the trumpet.
As often as the trumpet sounds she snorts, 'Aha!' She smells the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.
"Is it by your wisdom that the hawk soars, and stretches his wings toward the south?
Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up, and makes her nest on high?
On the cliff she dwells, and makes her home, on the point of the cliff, and the stronghold.
From there she spies out the prey. Her eyes see it afar off.
Her young ones also suck up blood. Where the slain are, there she is."