Take silver, take gold; for there is no end to the store; take for yourselves a weight of things to be desired.

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 the fire will make you waste; you will be cut off by the sword: make yourself as great in number as the worms, as great in number as the locusts.

Sorrow! how are the keepers of your flock sleeping, O king of Assyria! your strong men are at rest; your people are wandering on the mountains, and there is no one to get them together.