And he thoroughly digged it, And gathered out the stones thereof, And planted it with a precious vine, And built a tower in the midst thereof, Moreover also a wine-press, hewed he therein, - Then waited he that it should bring forth grapes. And it brought forth wild grapes:

I will cause, a man, to be more precious than fine gold, - Even a son of earth than, the finest gold of Ophir.

For, the fields of Heshbon are withered - The vine of Sibmah, the owners of nations, have broken off ruddy branches, Unto Jazer, had they reached, They had spread abroad to the desert, - Her boughs, had stretched forth, had gone over to the sea.

For this cause, will I bewail, in the wailing of Jazer, The vine of Sibmah, I will drench thee with my tears, O Heshbon and Elealeh, - For, upon thy fruit-harvest, and upon thy grain-harvest, the battle-shout, hath fallen.

And it shall be - When it is seen that Moab hath laboured in vain on the high place, He shall enter into his holy place to pray, and shall not prevail,

Mourneth the new wine. Withereth the vine, - Sighing are all the merryhearted:

Then shall be as fine dust the multitude of thy foreigners, - And as chaff that passeth away, the multitude of tyrants; And it shall come to pass, in a twinkling, Suddenly,

Alas! for them who would fain have been too deep for Yahweh by giving secret counsel, - and therefore in the dark, have been their doings, and they have said Who can see us? and - Who can understand us?

And the oxen and the young asses that till the ground, salted provender, shall eat, which hath been winnowed with shovel or fan.

Upon your breasts, continue smiting: For desirable fields, For fruitful vine.

Then shall be dissolved all the host of the heavens, And the heavens shall roll up as a scroll, - Yea, all their host, shall fade - Like the fading and falling of a leaf from a vine, and Like what fadeth and falleth from a fig-tree.

Do not hearken unto Hezekiah, - for, thus, saith the king of Assyria, Deal with me thankfully, and come out unto me, Then shall ye eat, Every one of his own vine and Every one of his own fig-tree, And drink every one the Waters of his own cistern:

Lo! nations, Are us a drop on a bucket, And as fine dust on a balance, are accounted, - Lo! islands, like an atom, can he hoist;

Thou shalt fan them and, a wind, shall carry them away, And, a whirlwind, scatter, them, - But, thou, shalt exult in Yahweh, And, in the Holy One of Israel, shalt thou boast thyself.

For, not in haste, shall ye come forth, Nor, by flight, shall ye journey, - For, your van-guard, is Yahweh, And, your rear-guard, the God of Israel.

They shall not labour in vain, Nor have children for terror, - For the seed of the blessed ones of Yahweh, shall they be, And their offspring, with them.