There come out of thee such as Imagine mischief, and give ungracious counsel against the LORD.

But the LORD hath given a commandment concerning thee, that there shall come no more seed of thy name. The carved and casten Images will I root out of the house of thy God. Thy grave shall I prepare for thee, and thou shalt be confounded.

Look! There on the mountains! The feet of the one who brings good news, who broadcasts a message of peace. Judah, celebrate your solemn festivals and keep your vows, because the wicked will never again invade you. Nineveh will be completely eliminated!

The chariots race madly through the streets, they rush back and forth in the broad plazas; they look like lightning bolts, they dash here and there like flashes of lightning.

Nineveh is like a pool full of water, but then shall they be fain to flee. "Stand, stand," shall they cry, and there shall not one turn back.

Seize ye silver, seize ye gold, And there is no end to the prepared things, To the abundance of all desirable vessels.

Where is the habitation of lionesses? And a feeding-place it is for young lions Where walked hath a lion, an old lion, A lion's whelp, and there is none troubling.

A curse is on the town of blood; it is full of deceit and violent acts; and there is no end to the taking of life.

There a man may hear scourging, rushing, the noise of the wheels, the crying of the horses, and the rolling of the chariots.

And the flame of a sword, and the lightning of a spear, And the abundance of the wounded, And the weight of carcases, Yea, there is no end to the bodies, They stumble over their bodies.

Everyone who sees you will turn away from you in disgust; they will say, 'Nineveh has been devastated! Who will lament for her?' There will be no one to comfort you!"

Cush her might, and Egypt, and there is no end. Put and Lubim have been for thy help.

There consume thee doth a fire, Cut thee off doth a sword, It doth consume thee as a cankerworm! Make thyself heavy as the cankerworm, Make thyself heavy as the locust.

Slumbered have thy friends, king of Asshur, Rest do thine honourable ones, Scattered have been thy people on the mountains, And there is none gathering.

There is no weakening of thy destruction, Grievous is thy smiting, All hearing thy fame have clapped the hand at thee, For over whom did not thy wickedness pass continually?