And they have sat each under his vine, And under his fig-tree, And there is none troubling, For the mouth of Jehovah of Hosts hath spoken.

Now, why dost thou shout aloud? A king -- is there none in thee? Hath thy counsellor perished, That taken hold of thee hath pain as a travailing woman?

Be pained, and bring forth, O daughter of Zion, As a travailing woman, For now, thou goest forth from the city, And thou hast dwelt in the field, And thou hast gone unto Babylon, There thou art delivered, There redeem thee doth Jehovah from the hand of thine enemies.

Yea, the remnant of Jacob hath been among nations, In the midst of many peoples, As a lion among beasts of a forest, As a young lion among ranks of a flock, Which if it hath passed through, Hath both trodden down and hath torn, And there is no deliverer.

Are there yet in the house of the wicked Treasures of wickedness, And the abhorred scanty ephah?

My woe is to me, for I have been As gatherings of summer-fruit, As gleanings of harvest, There is no cluster to eat, The first-ripe fruit desired hath my soul.

Perished hath the kind out of the land, And upright among men -- there are none, All of them for blood lie in wait, Each his brother they hunt with a net.