So shall it be in that day, That Tyre shall be forgotten seventy years, According to the days of a certain king: At the end of seventy years, shall it befall Tyre according to the song of the harlot:

Take thou a lyre, Go round the city, O harlot forgotten, - Sweetly touch the strings Lengthen out the song, That thou mayest be called to mind.

So shall it be, at the end of seventy years, That Yahweh will visit Tyre, And she will return to her hire, - Yea she will play the harlot - with all the kingdoms of the earth, upon the face of the ground.