[1] Woe to the bloody city, all full of lies and booty--no end to the
plunder! [2] The crack of whip, and rumble of wheel, galloping horse and
bounding chariot! [3] Horsemen charging, flashing sword and glittering
spear, hosts of slain, heaps of corpses, dead bodies without end--they
stumble over the bodies! [4] And all for the countless harlotries of the
harlot, graceful and of deadly charms, who betrays nations with her
harlotries, and peoples with her charms. [5] Behold, I am against you, says
the LORD of hosts, and will lift up your skirts over your face; and I will
let nations look on your nakedness and kingdoms on your shame. [6] I will
throw filth at you and treat you with contempt, and make you a gazingstock.
[7] And all who look on you will shrink from you and say, Wasted is
Nin'eveh; who will bemoan her? whence shall I seek comforters for her? [8]
Are you better than Thebes that sat by the Nile, with water around her, her
rampart a sea, and water her wall? [9] Ethiopia was her strength, Egypt
too, and that without limit; Put and the Libyans were her helpers. [10] Yet
she was carried away, she went into captivity; her little ones were dashed
in pieces at the head of every street; for her honored men lots were cast,
and all her great men were bound in chains. [11] You also will be drunken,
you will be dazed; you will seek a refuge from the enemy. [12] All your
fortresses are like fig trees with first-ripe figs--if shaken they fall
into the mouth of the eater. [13] Behold, your troops are women in your
midst. The gates of your land are wide open to your foes; fire has devoured
your bars. [14] Draw water for the siege, strengthen your forts; go into
the clay, tread the mortar, take hold of the brick mold! [15] There will
the fire devour you, the sword will cut you off. It will devour you like
the locust. Multiply yourselves like the locust, multiply like the
grasshopper! [16] You increased your merchants more than the stars of the
heavens. The locust spreads its wings and flies away. [17] Your princes are
like grasshoppers, your scribes like clouds of locusts settling on the
fences in a day of cold--when the sun rises, they fly away; no one knows
where they are. [18] Your shepherds are asleep, O king of Assyria; your
nobles slumber. Your people are scattered on the mountains with none to
gather them. [19] There is no assuaging your hurt, your wound is grievous.
All who hear the news of you clap their hands over you. For upon whom has
not come your unceasing evil?
