Amos, Isaiah, and Ezekiel display no tenderness toward their people; Hosea is an intensely loving nature; Jeremiah’s prevailing attitude is one of sorrow, as in these extracts from chapters viii. and ix. of his book:—

OH for comfort in my sorrow! My heart is sick! Hark! the cry of the Daughter of my People from a far-off land: Is not Jehovah in Zion? is not her King in her?—[Jehovah speaks:] Why have they provoked me to anger with their graven images and with foreign gods?—[The people:] The harvest is past, the autumn ingathering is ended, and we are not saved.—[The prophet:] By the ruin of the Daughter of my People my spirit is crushed; I mourn; dismay seizes me. Is there no balm in Gilead? is there no physician there? why then is the wound of the Daughter of my People not healed?—Oh that my head were water, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the Daughter of my People! Oh that I could find in the wilderness a lodging-place for travelers, that I might leave my people, and from them go far away!… For the mountains will I break forth into weeping and wailing, and for the pastures of the wilderness utter a lament, because they are burned, so that none passes through; voices of cattle are not heard; birds of the heaven and beasts of the field are all fled and gone…. Call for the mourning women, that they may come; send for women skilled in lament, that they may come and utter wailing for us, that tears may stream from our eyes and water from our eyelids.

Ezekiel’s tremendous power of denunciation and of description appears throughout his book; see for example Chapters vi., xi., xvi., xx., xxiii., xxvi.–xxviii., xxix.–xxxii., xxxviii., xxxix. He thus addresses the land of Israel (vi.):—

The section devoted to Tyre (xxvi.–xxviii.) is of special interest for the picture it gives of the magnificence of that city. The King of Tyre is thus described (xxviii. 12–17):—

Alongside of this (the resemblance between which and the picture in Gen. ii.–iii. is obvious) we may put the address to Pharaoh (xxxi.), who is portrayed as a mighty tree (the cedar of Lebanon is chosen as the noblest of trees), watered by a great river (the Nile) and its canals:—

The prophet’s imagination, reveling in its picture, does not always, keep figure and original sharply apart; as in the description of Pharaoh’s fall (xxxi. 15–17), in which the tree and the king are skillfully blended without loss of unity:—

THUS says the Lord Jehovah: On the day when it was hurled down to Sheol, I made the River mourn for it, the streams were held back and ceased to flow; for it I caused Lebanon to lament, for it all the trees of the field fainted with sorrow. At its resounding fall I made the nations tremble, when I hurled it down to Sheol, with those who descend into the pit; and all the trees of Eden, the choicest of Lebanon, all trees nourished by water, were consoled [that is, by the ruin of their rival]. They too had to go down with it to Sheol, to those who were slain with the sword [who had an inferior position in Sheol]; so perished its allies and they who dwelt in its shadow.

The powerful effect which Ezekiel produces by cumulation and iteration may be seen in his review (Chapter xx.) of the history of Israel, which is noteworthy also for treating the national career as one long catalogue of acts of disobedience and apostasy.

Among the Prophetical works the Book of Isaiah presents the greatest variety in literary form. The pictures of the physical and moral ruin of Judah (i., iii., v.) and of Israel (xxviii.), the descriptions of the haughty bearing and the overthrow of the King of Assyria (x., xxxvii.), the lament over Moab (xv., xvi.), the siege of Jerusalem (xxix.), the prediction of the return of the exiles (xxxv.),—these and other pieces are classic. As an example of its descriptive power we may take the picture of Jehovah’s coming vengeance on Edom (xxxiv.):—

The most splendid of Prophetic rhapsodies are found in Isaiah, xl.–lxvi. We may cite from these, as an example of vivid imagination and gorgeous coloring, the famous description of Israel’s coming glory, in Chapter lx.:—

Hebrew poetry, it is generally admitted, is characterized as to its form by rhythm and parallelism. Rhythm is the melodious flow of syllables. Parallelism—a form characteristic of, and almost peculiar to, old Semitic poetry—is the balancing of phrases; the second line in a couplet being a repetition of the first in varied phrase, or presenting some sort of expansion of or contrast to the first. These two general classes of parallelism may be called the identical and the antithetical. An example of the first sort is:—or, with one slight variation:—Similarly:—Examples of the second are:—


Question and answer:—or, with fuller expansion:—

Between the extremes of complete identity and complete antithesis there are many sub-varieties, the combinations and interchanges of which, in the hands of a gifted poet, give exquisite delicacy and charm to the form of the verse.

Various efforts have been made to discover metre in Hebrew poetry,—a regular succession of feet after the manner of the Greek; but without success, and such attempts are now discountenanced by the majority of critics. Elaborate schemes of dimeter, trimeter, tetrameter, and pentameter, which one still finds defended in certain modern books, may be rejected as having no basis in fact. There might be more to say in favor of a system of ictus or beats of the voice. It is true that all poetry is marked by a certain succession of rhythmic beats. But the succession does not occur in Hebrew according to any fixed rule. It appears to be determined by the feeling of the poet, and its appreciation may safely be left to the feeling of the reader. This much is true, that, in a series of couplets, the same number of accented syllables may be employed in each couplet, and we may thus have a guide in fixing the limits of the stanzas; but even these limits we must leave to the free choice of the poet, without attempting to impose our rules on him. To such norms, characterized by the number of beats, we may give the names binary (when the line has two beats), ternary (of three beats), quaternary, and so on. In the Book of Proverbs many of the lines or verses are ternary; elsewhere we find other forms. These can rarely be reproduced exactly in English.

Naturally also, these groups of couplets arrange themselves in strophes or stanzas; but here again, no fixed rule prevails. A stanza may consist of two, three, four, or more couplets; and adjoining stanzas may differ in their number of couplets. As the original text does not indicate any such division, we are left to the rhythm of the couplets and to the connection of the sense to determine the order of the strophes. An example of a symmetrical division in the stanzas is found in the second Psalm, which consists of four stanzas of three couplets each. In the first, the hostile nations are introduced as speaking; in the second the speaker is Jehovah; in the third the speaker is the royal Son, whose coronation has just been announced; and in the fourth, the poet exhorts the nation to obedience.

Hebrew poetry is either emotional or gnomic. It either enounces rules of life, in the form of apophthegms or proverbs, or it describes the poet’s own feeling in the presence of any phenomenon of joy or suffering. It thus, in general, belongs to the class which we call lyric. It does not present any example of what we call epic and dramatic. There has been a natural desire to discover, in the Old Testament poetry, examples of the poetic forms familiar to us in Greek literature; and so it has been said that the Book of Job is a drama or an epic, and that the Song of Songs is a lyric drama. But a little reflection suffices to show that the Book of Job lacks the essential element of epic and drama; that is to say, action. It is, in fact, nothing but an argument consisting of elaborate speeches, with a conclusion attached. There is no catastrophe toward which all the acts of the personages tend. The interest lies in the discussion of a religious theme; Jehovah permits the debate to go on to a certain point, and then intervenes, the human actors having nothing to do with bringing about the result. The Song of Songs is a series of love songs, so delicately conceived, so undefined in shape, so lacking in indications of place and time, that no two critics have as yet agreed in their conclusions as to who are the actors in the supposed drama, or where the action takes place, or what is its culmination. It is obviously necessary to take it, not as a drama, but as a group of songs. And in general, we do nothing but harm to the old Hebrew literature in trying to force it into the forms of a foreign people. The mistake is similar to that which has been made by Hebrew grammarians, who have tried to construct Hebrew grammar in the forms of Greek or Latin grammar; a procedure which, as scholars are now coming to recognize, can result only in misapprehension and misrepresentation. It is no less fatal to the poetic form of a people to force it into the categories of another people. Justice will be done to the Old Testament on its literary side only when we take it for what it is, and try to apprehend its form and enjoy its beauties according to its own rules.

So far as regards the higher characteristics of poetry, these are the same in the Old Testament as elsewhere. There is eloquence, pathos, charm, sublimity,—qualities which are confined to no one race or people. And that the poetry is subjective—that it contains only the expression of the poet’s feeling or reflection—will be evident from a brief review of the books themselves.

Let us begin with the Book of Psalms, the longest and most varied of the poetic books of the Old Testament. It contains simple lucid bits of description, agonizing cries to God for help, exultation for victory, rejoicing in time of peace, expression of consciousness of sin, and odes of praise to the God of Israel. As an example of a gentle, calm confidence and joy, we may take the 23d Psalm:—

Here the imagery, derived from the shepherd’s life, is of the most restful sort; and the whole picture is one of perfect repose under the protection of God. In contrast with this, the 24th Psalm is an exulting ode of praise; and the first part, verses 1–6, which states the moral qualities demanded of those who are to serve Jehovah in his temple, begins with a declaration of the Divine might:—

The second part is the hymn of a solemn procession, in which Jehovah is spoken of as entering the temple, and it is conceived in the finest vein of stirring song:—

Here a member of the choir sings:—And the answer comes from the whole choir:—The chorus is then repeated:—Again the question and answer:—

Among the most beautiful of the odes of the Psalter are the so-called Pilgrim songs (Pss. cxx.–cxxxiv.); each bears the title Song of Ascents, the meaning of which is doubtful; they differ greatly from one another in sentiment and length. One of them, Ps. cxxvii., is a song of the household, speaking of house and children. Another, Ps. cxxxii., describes the choosing of the site of the temple. We shall not find a more beautiful expression of trust in God than that which is given by the 121st Psalm:—

The longer psalms are either odes written on the occasion of some national festivity, or narrations of national history, or, in a few cases, the expression of national experiences. Of these perhaps the most striking are the 18th and the 68th. The former is a description of struggle and victory. It contains one of the most magnificent of poetical passages:—

It was from this passage that Sternhold and Hopkins elicited the only bit of poetry in their metrical version of the Psalms:—

The 68th Psalm is a procession-ode, consisting of a series of stanzas of singular majesty and force. Psalms lxxvii. and lxxxix., cv. and cvi. are historical reviews. Psalms ciii. and civ. are odes in celebration of the glorious and beneficent deeds of Jehovah.

A peculiarity of the Psalter is the presence of alphabetical psalms, in which each verse or stanza begins with a letter of the alphabet in order. There are a number of these: the alphabetical arrangement is, however, not always perfect; and it is, of course, not recognizable in the English translation. The most noteworthy example is the 119th Psalm, a collection of couplets in praise of the Law. It is divided into twenty-two stanzas (according to the number of letters in the Hebrew alphabet) of eight couplets each. Such psalms, however, are naturally the least attractive in poetic form.

The Psalter is divided in the Hebrew Bible, and in the English Revised Version, into five books (in imitation of the division of the Pentateuch): and these are supposed to indicate collections which were made at different times; the whole having been finally combined into our present Psalm-book. The Psalter grew with the temple services, and many—perhaps the most—of its hymns were intended for recitation in the sacred place.

A peculiar and very effective form of Hebrew poetry is the elegy. The discovery of the form of the Hebrew elegy or lament (the recognition of which adds not a little to the reader’s pleasure) is due to Professor Karl Budde, now of Strassburg. The elegiac verse is characterized by a short clause, followed by a still shorter clause, giving to the phrase a peculiar restrained movement. The most noted example of this poetic form is found in our Book of Lamentations—a collection of laments over the sorrows of Israel. Thus, in the beginning of the second chapter:—

One feels here how the emotion of the poet drives him into this sad brief appendage at the end of each line. Elegies are not confined to the Book of Lamentations, but are found elsewhere in the Old Testament. In Ezekiel xix. are two laments, one for the princes and the other for the nation. The first reads as follows:—

So the magnificent ode, written in elegiac form, in Isaiah xiv., in which the fall of the King of Babylon is celebrated:—

A still better conception of the power of the elegiac verse is given by the fine alphabetic ode in triplets contained in Lamentations i.

Other examples of the elegy are found in Amos, v. 1; Ezek., xxvii. 32–36, and xxxii. 19–32.

The Book of Job must be reckoned among the great poems of the world. The prose introduction—the story of the crushing of Job’s worldly hopes—is itself full of power. The poem is unique in form. It is a series of monologues, all united by the author’s intention to develop a certain idea in connection with the question, “Why do the righteous suffer?” The Three Friends affirm that the righteous do not suffer,—that is, that no man suffers except for wrong-doing. Job combats this view to the uttermost, holding that he is righteous and that he suffers. Elihu further insists that suffering is designed to destroy the pride of men who are otherwise good. Finally, Jehovah intervenes, and proclaims the wonderfulness of his government of the world, and Job is reduced to silence. The freshness and variety of thought,—the picture of a terrible struggle in Job’s soul,—the majestic descriptions of Divine power,—all these together give a peculiar impressiveness to the book. At the outset, Job gives us a glimpse into his own soul:—

Job longs for death, that he may go to that sad underworld, and dwell

Where—

To this outburst, the eldest of the three friends, Eliphaz, replies by insisting on the general rule that men receive in this world what they deserve; and he expresses his conclusion in the form of a vision:—

Job replies to this, and is answered by the second friend, replies to him, is followed by the third friend, and so for several rounds of argument,—the only effect of which on Job is to draw him to deeper hopelessness. He exclaims (vii. 7):—

Then there comes to him a vague wish that God would think of him after death in the underworld, and he exclaims:—

The finest outbursts of poetry are to be found in the speeches of Job himself, yet others also contain many striking pieces. See, for example, the speech of Zophar, Chapter xx.; that of Eliphaz, Chapter xxii.; and that of Bildad, Chapter xxv. Elihu’s description of the chastening power of suffering in xxxiii. 19–28 is also full of vigor:—

The speeches of Jehovah make a magnificent poem in themselves. Chapters xxviii., xxxix., are worthy to stand alongside the first chapter of Genesis for sublimity of statement, and have in addition the freshness and color of a fine imagination. One other poem in Job, that contained in Chapter xxviii., we may reserve, in order to place it alongside of several similar poems.

We have already seen that the Canticles, or Song of Songs, must be taken as a group of songs of love, in which it is impossible to discover any relation of time and place. It may be compared, for poetic grace, with the finest idylls of Theocritus. It breathes the air of the fields and mountains; and in this respect is unique among the Old Testament books. For ancient poetry does not occupy itself directly with external nature. Neither among the Greeks nor among the Hebrews do we find the phenomena of nature introduced into poetry for their own sake: they are used as illustrations purely. The reason of this is not that the ancients did not love nature,—certainly they must have been alive to its charm. It is rather that only in modern times have men come to that habit of close observation of nature which has made it possible to use its varying forms as part of poetic material. So, in the Psalms, clouds and mountains, stream and sunshine, appear as exhibiting the power and wisdom or the wrath or the love of God. But not even in such Psalms as xviii. and xix. does the poet dwell on these phenomena for their own sake. In this book we seem to have an exception to this rule; as in the beautiful spring song in Chapter ii.:—

Here the pictures introduced are all of the country, and all charming, and the poet seems to dwell on them for their own sake. But after all he does not do this. It is the lover who describes the beautiful face of nature, in order to tempt his beloved to come forth and roam with him over the fields and hills. Nevertheless, the pictures of natural scenery which he gives are very striking, and might easily prepare the way for that completer contemplation of nature which is found in the modern poets.

It is the occurrence of responsive songs in the book that has suggested the opinion that it is a drama. How vague the speeches and the supposed dialogue are, will appear from the following examples. The occasion of the first address to the Jerusalem ladies (i. 5, 6) is not obvious:—

On this follows the first dialogue:—


After a brief descriptive strophe, the second dialogue proceeds (i. 15–ii. 6):—

The vagueness of this narration is equaled by that of its companion song, the less fortunate search for the Lover, of which we cannot say whether it is a dream or reality (v. 2–7):—

This exquisite piece is the expression of the longing of love; it does not belong to a drama. The reference to the night-watchmen of the city is to be noted.

We add two beautiful expressions of love, the first, of joy in the possession of the beloved one (iv. 16, v. 1):—

Then, love on its spontaneous, enduring, and controlling side (viii. 6, 7):—

The book is a group of rhapsodies in praise of pure and faithful love. It has no movement, no dénouement, no plot, nothing but the isolated passionate utterances of a pair of lovers. Its hero is not Solomon, but a shepherd, and its heroine is a country maiden; she is not carried off by Solomon to his harem. The King is introduced or alluded to by way of illustration: not always, it would seem, with approbation,—see vi. 8, 9, where the Lover contrasts his one Beloved with the numerous members of a great harem. Its unity is the unity of an idea; the many attempts which have been made to discover in it a unity of action have none of them gained general acceptance.

The gnomic literature of the Hebrews, contained mainly in the books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes (but also in certain Psalms, as the 27th and the 49th), has, by its nature, little of the poetic, except the outward form; its balanced phrases present excellent examples of Semitic parallelism. In some cases a longer description gathers force by the accumulation of details; as in the well-known picture of the good housewife (Prov. xxxi. 10–31), which is in the nature of an ode to the housewife, as Ps. cxix. is an ode to the Law.

Ecclesiastes is written for the most part in prose, and has passages of great eloquence and beauty. The author counsels quiet acceptance of what God has given (iii. 11–15):—

HE has made everything beautiful in its time. He presents the world to man, yet so that man, from beginning to end, cannot find out what he has done. I thence conclude that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and taste of happiness while they live; for when one eats and drinks, and enjoys what he has acquired by his labor, this is the gift of God. I know that whatever God does shall be for ever. Nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God so acts that men may fear him. That which is, has already existed; that which is to be, has already been; that which has passed away, God seeks in order to give it existence again.

He warns against all excess (vii. 15–17):—

ALL this have I seen in the days of my vain life. The good man perishes in spite of his goodness, and the bad man lives long in spite of his badness. Be not too righteous, nor pretend to be too wise, lest thou destroy thyself. Be not too wicked, nor too foolish, lest thou die before thy time.

The description of old age and its slowly lessening powers (xii. 1–7) belongs to the best productions of Hebrew literature:—

REMEMBER thy Creator in the days of thy youth, before the sad days come, and the years draw nigh when thou shalt say, “I have no pleasure in them;” before the sun, the light, the moon, and the stars, be darkened, and the clouds return after the rain; when the house-guards tremble, the strong men bow, when the maidens grinding corn cease because they are few, and those who look out of the windows are darkened, and the street-doors are shut; when the sound of the grinding is low; when one starts up from sleep at the voice of a bird, and all the daughters of music are brought low, and one is afraid of what is high, and terrors are in the way; when the almond-tree blossoms, the grasshopper is a burden, and all stimulants fail; because man goes to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets: before the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern, and the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit return to God who gave it.

The failure of light and the recurrence of rain (verses 1, 2) indicate the growing gloom of old age. The decay of natural powers is represented (verses 3, 4) by the cessation of activity in a great house falling into ruin: arms (guards) and legs (strong men) lose their strength, the teeth (maidens grinding) are few, the eyes grow dim (windows); in a word, the avenues of the senses are closed (the doors are shut). Then comes (verses 4, 5) a more literal description of bodily weakness: the old man cannot sleep, music gives him no pleasure, he walks about in fear and trembling, his hair turns white (almond-tree), the smallest weight is burdensome, the appetite does not respond to stimulants. Finally comes the end,—from the fountain of life no water can be drawn. With this gloomy portraiture of old age we may compare the cheerful picture given by Cicero. The object of the preacher is to lead men to use aright the vigorous season of youth.

There remains to be mentioned the apocalypse, a species of composition which must be regarded as a creation of Hebrew thought. Before the eye of a seer the history of generations or centuries is unrolled in a series of visions, the culminating point of which is the triumph of the people of Israel. It is the visional expression of that unification of history which is given in simple narrative form in the Hexateuch and suggested in the Prophets. Kingdoms rise and fall, and all things move toward the divinely appointed goal,—the establishment of Israel in peace and prosperity. In the Book of Daniel (the only elaborated apocalypse in the Old Testament) the kingdoms set forth are the Babylonian, the Median, the Persian, and the Greek; and the visions all end with the downfall of Antiochus Epiphanes (see particularly Chapter xi.). A majestic picture is presented in the description of the judgment of the enemies of Israel, the “one like a man” being explained in the context as meaning Faithful Israel (vii. 9–14):—

I BEHELD till thrones were placed, and one that was full of years did sit: his raiment was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames and its wheels burning fire. A fiery stream issued and came forth from before him; a thousand thousands ministered unto him and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him; the judgment was set and the books were opened. I beheld at that time till, because of the voice of the great words which the horn spake, the beast was slain, and his body destroyed, and he was given to be burned with fire. And as for the rest of the beasts, their dominion was taken away, yet their lives were prolonged for a season and a time. I saw in the night visions, and behold there came with the clouds of heaven one like a man, and he came to the Ancient of Days, and was brought into his presence. And to him was given dominion and glory and a kingdom that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting dominion which shall not pass away, and his kingdom one that shall not be destroyed.

The Hebrew power of narration is well illustrated in the scenes described in Chapters ii.–vi.

THE BOOKS which constitute the Old Testament were slowly gathered by the Jews into a sacred canon, the discussions on which did not cease until the Synod of Jamnia, held probably about A.D. 95. Meantime the Jews had been producing other works, which, though some of them were excellent in tone, were for various reasons not thought worthy by the Palestinian rabbis to be accepted as sacred scripture. In respect to some of these books the Alexandrian Jews appear to have held a different opinion; some are included in the Septuagint along with the canonical books, and it is to these that the name Apocrypha properly belongs. The purpose of some of the Alexandrian additions is obvious. Since, for example, the Hebrew Book of Esther does not contain the name of God, or make any reference to religion, the Greek supplies this lack by adding visions and prayers. In any case we have, in this Jewish Apocrypha, a very interesting mass of literature, reflecting the religious and literary culture of the Jews in the two centuries preceding the beginning of our era. In addition to the works constituting the Apocrypha proper (that is, the extra-canonical or deuterocanonical books contained in the Septuagint,) there are several others, of no less importance and equally deserving of mention. Such, for example, are the Books of Enoch and the Sibyllines. We need make no distinction between the two classes, but may take them all together.

The first book of this sort in order of time is the work commonly called Ecclesiasticus, or the Wisdom of the Son of Sirach; better called the Proverbs of Ben-Sira, or simply Ben-Sira. It was composed about 190 B.C. in Hebrew, by Jesus (Joshua) ben-Sira; translated into Greek by his grandson in Alexandria in 132 B.C.; and afterwards translated into Latin, Syriac, and Arabic. The book consists for the most part of apophthegms which resemble those in our Book of Proverbs. It contains also several extended poems of no little beauty; among which may be cited those in Chapters i. and xxiv., and the roll of the great men of Israel, Chapters xliv.–l. Its sayings are marked by great worldly wisdom, and bear the impress of a man who lived in a large city. In common with the other Wisdom books, it shows the marks of Greek influence in its conception of wisdom and of morality.

Nothing was known of the Hebrew original until 1897, when MSS. containing about ten chapters (xxxix. 15–xlix. 11), came to Oxford, and the text has now been edited. The language of the fragment does not differ in style from that of the canonical Book of Proverbs; it is classical, but with a small admixture of later words. This fact is of great literary interest, as helping to the solution of the question how long classical Hebrew continued to be used in books: it appears that it was employed certainly as late as 190 B.C.; the occurrence of some late words is of course to be expected in this period. It further appears that the Versions, while they in general render the Hebrew correctly, differ from it in not a few instances. Several scholars had undertaken to reproduce the Hebrew from the Greek and the Syriac; it turns out that they had not in a single case written the Hebrew of a verse as it is given in this MS., but have in many instances departed widely from it,—a fact which should teach us caution in attempting to restore Hebrew texts from ancient Greek, Syriac, Latin, and Ethiopic translations. Another important point is settled by this text. It had been contended (especially by Professor Margoliouth of Oxford) that the poetical form of the Hebrew Ben-Sira was metrical, and that the original could often be restored by the aid of the laws of metre. The form, however, is distinctly not metrical; it is simply the old Hebrew rhythm, such as appears in Psalms, Proverbs, and all the poetical parts of the Old Testament. One leaf of the MS. was brought by Mrs. Lewis from the East; the remainder was secured for the Bodleian Library through Professor Sayce. The MS. contains variants, and must be subjected to critical sifting.

Not long after Ben-Sira came the apocalyptic Book of Enoch, which now exists mainly in an Ethiopic translation. The apocalypse had come to be a favorite form of literature among the Jews, and so continued for two hundred and fifty years. Amid depressing circumstances, it was pleasant to put into the mouth of some ancient seer a prediction of future success and glory for the nation. In this case it is the old patriarch Enoch who receives the revelation. The book is composite, having been added to from time to time. The first section, Chapters i.–xxxvi. (perhaps the oldest part of the book), describes the fate of evil angels, and the abodes of good and bad men after death. Next should come the section Chapters lxxxiii.–xc., in which we have the judgment of the world, ending with the victorious career of Judas Maccabæus. In addition, the section Chapters xxxvii.–lxxi. (partly a distinct work) describes further the Messianic judgment of the world. Chapters lxxii.–lxxxii. contain a description of Enoch’s journey through the heavens,—a picture of the celestial physics of the time. And finally, in the last section, Chapters xci.–civ., the problem of the fate of the righteous and the wicked is discussed in a new form. The book in its present form has little literary interest, but is valuable as giving a glimpse of the religious notions of the time. The best English translation is that of R. H. Charles (1893). Along with this may be mentioned a similar work entitled ‘The Secrets of Enoch,’ translated from the Slavonic by W. R. Morfill, and edited by Mr. Charles (1896); it is held by him to have been composed about the beginning of our era.

Nearly contemporary with Enoch is the earliest part of the Sibylline Oracles, a work written in Greek hexameters. The Jews, not to be behind other nations of the time, would have their own Sibyl, who should tell their national fortunes, and make manifest their national greatness. The work, as we now have it, is a congeries of diverse productions, the composition of which (partly by Jews, partly by Christians) extends from the Maccabean period to the end of the first Christian century. Though it has no literary value, it formerly enjoyed extraordinary popularity, as the “teste David cum Sibylla” of the ‘Dies Iræ’ indicates. Its predictions traverse the periods extending from the creation of the world down to the times of the various authors. An excellent English metrical translation is that of M. S. Terry (1890).

Other apocalypses may be briefly mentioned. The Assumption (or Ascension) of Moses, written in the first quarter of the first century of our era, puts into the mouth of Moses a prediction of Jewish history, which comes on down, through the time of Antiochus Epiphanes, to Herod the Great, and possibly even to a later period. The period after the capture of Jerusalem by the Romans was prolific in this species of writing. The Apocalypse of Baruch (the scribe of Jeremiah) sketches the history down to the destruction of the Second Temple. The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (predictions uttered by the twelve sons of Jacob), come down to about the same time. To the end of the first century also belongs the Fourth Book of Esdras, remarkable for its elaborate visions. Many of these works are based on Jewish originals, with Christian additions.

The Jewish skill in story-telling is illustrated in the books of Tobit and Judith. The former of these is a charming sketch of family life in the second century B.C. The well-ordered households of Tobit and Raguel, the ingenuous youth and maiden Tobias and Sara, the affable angel Rafael, his disingenuousness and his business capacity, are drawn to the life. The Persian demon Asmodeus, and the exorcism by the heart and liver of the fish, show how far the Jews then practiced magic arts; and the golden rule (iv. 15) indicates the advance of their ethical ideas. The historical data are thoroughly confused. The Book of Judith, though somewhat inflated in style, is dramatically powerful; in spite of its absurd historical framework, and the dubious procedure of the heroine, the dénouement has a heroic coloring. Both books furnished subjects to the older painters and sculptors, and are entitled to our gratitude for having given us Donatello’s Judith and Botticelli’s Tobias.

The historical literature is meager. The only work which can properly lay claim to the name “history” is the First Book of Maccabees; which, written probably in the earlier part of the first century B.C., narrates the story of the Maccabean uprising, to the death of Simon, the successor of Judas, B.C. 175–135. The style is simple and effective, and the work is valuable as an authority for the times. Second Maccabees is largely a collection of legendary matter relating to the period 175–160 B.C. It contains (Chapters vi. and vii.) two famous descriptions of the constancy of Jewish martyrs.

The Third and Fourth Books of Maccabees, which are not contained in our Greek Apocrypha, belong in the category not of history but of romance. The Third Book deals with a great deliverance of the Jews from the purposed revenge of Ptolemy IV. The Fourth Book is a philosophical treatise on the supremacy of reason, the discourse being based on the story of Eleazar and the Seven Brothers, in Second Maccabees, referred to above. The book is of interest as giving an example of Jewish attempts to deal with Jewish beliefs in the spirit of Stoicism. The historian Josephus, and the philosopher Philo, may be mentioned here, but are entitled to independent treatment.

The Wisdom of Solomon appears to have been composed in the first century B.C., and to have been written in Greek. For elevation of thought and beauty of style it deserves the first place among the Apocryphal books, and high rank in the literature of the world. It is the first Jewish work in which the belief in ethical immortality appears; and this belief is for the author a complete solution of the problem (hitherto unsolved) of the earthly sufferings of the righteous. A student of Greek philosophy, his conception of wisdom and of the Cosmos differs from earlier Jewish ideas in its distinctly Stoic form; his Wisdom approaches nearly the Logos of Philo. The following extract (Chapter v.) will exhibit his resemblances to and differences from the older poetry and rhythmical prose:—

As an illustration of the variety of style in the gnomic poetry, we append three odes in praise of wisdom, taken from Job, Ben-Sira, and Wisdom.

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