Though a harlot thou art, O Israel, Let not Judah become guilty, And come not ye in to Gilgal, nor go up to Beth-Aven, Nor swear ye, Jehovah liveth.

Blow ye a cornet in Gibeah, a trumpet in Ramah, Shout, O Beth-Aven, after thee, O Benjamin.

For the calves of Beth-Aven fear do inhabitants of Samaria, Surely mourned on account of it hath its people, And its priests on account of it leap about, Because of its honour, for it hath removed from it,

And rise doth a tumult among thy people, And all thy fortresses are spoiled, As the spoiling of Shalman of Beth-Arbel, In a day of battle, Mother against sons dashed in pieces.

Thus hath Beth-El done to you, Because of the evil of your wickedness, In the dawn cut off utterly is a king of Israel!