Mourn like a virgin dressed in sackcloth for the husband of her youth!

A day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness. As the dawn spreading on the mountains, a great and strong people; there has never been the like, neither will there be any more after them, even to the years of many generations.

Like the noise of chariots on the tops of the mountains do they leap, like the noise of a flame of fire that devours the stubble, as a strong people set in battle array.

They run like mighty men. They climb the wall like warriors. They each march in his line, and they don't swerve off course.

They rush on the city. They run on the wall. They climb up into the houses. They enter in at the windows like thieves.