Now, therefore, will I break his yoke from off thee, - and, thy fetters, will I tear off.

Then will Yahweh give command concerning thee, None of thy name shall be sown any more, - out of the house of thy gods, will I cut off carved image and molten image, I will appoint thy grave, for thou art of little esteem.

Lo! upon the mountains, The feet of one, who bringeth Good Tidings! who publisheth Prosperity! Celebrate, O Judah, thy pilgrim festivals, fulfil thy vows, for, not again, any more, shall the Abandoned One, pass through thee, he hath been wholly cut off.

He that breaketh in pieces hath come up over thy face, Keep the keeps, - watch the way, brace the loins, make vigour very firm.

Behold me! against thee, Declareth Yahweh of hosts, Therefore will I burn up in smoke her chariots, and, thy young lions, shall be devoured by the sword, - so will I cut off, out of the earth, thy prey, nor shall be heard any more, the voice of thine envoy.

Behold me! against thee, Declareth Yahweh of hosts, Therefore will I remove thy shirts over thy face, - and let, nations, see thy nakedness, and, kingdoms, thy shame;

Ethiopia, was her strength, and Egypt - Yea, without end, - Put and Lubim, were among thy helpers.

All thy fortresses, shall be fig-trees with first-ripe figs: if thy be shaken, then shall the fruit fall on the mouth of the eater.

Lo! thy people, are women, in thy midst, to thy foes, have been set wide open the gates of thy and, - a fire, hath devoured, thy bars.

Siege-water, draw for thyself, strengthen thy fortresses, - go into the clay, and tread thou the mortar, make strong the brick.

Though thou have multiplied thy foot-soldiers beyond the stars of the heavens, the grass locust, hath stript itself and flown away!

Thy mercenary crowds, are like the swarming locust, and, thy mixed multitudes, like locusts - swarms of locusts, - which settle in the hedges on a cold day, the sun, hath broken forth, and they are in flight, and unknown is the place where they are!

Asleep are thy shepherds, O king of Assyria, thy nobles, must needs rest. Scattered are thy people upon the mountains, and there is none to gather them.

No lessening of thine injury, grievous is thy wound, - all who have heard the report of thee, have clapped their hands over thee, for, upon whom, hath not thy cruelty passed without ceasing?