And all the hills that with a mattock are kept in order, Thither cometh not the fear of brier and thorn, And it hath been for the sending forth of ox, And for the treading of sheep!'

All thy rulers fled together from the bow, Bound have been all found of thee, They have been kept bound together, Afar off they have fled.

I have kept silent from of old, I keep silent, I refrain myself, As a travailing woman I cry out, I desolate and swallow up together.