Where is this lion's den? Where is the place where the young lions fed, where the lion and its mate walked with their young, the place where they feared nothing?

It will be that everyone who looks at you will run away, saying, "Nineveh has been violently overthrown! Who will mourn for her? Where will I find anyone to comfort you?'"

Your imperial guards are like the swarming grasshopper; your marshals are like hordes of grasshoppers, settling in the stone walls on a chilly day. The sun rises, and they flee away; no one knows where they went.