Woe to Nineveh
Woe to athe bloody city,
all full of lies and plunder—
bno end to the prey!
2 The crack of the whip, and arumble of the wheel,
bgalloping horse and cbounding chariot!
3 Horsemen charging,
flashing sword and aglittering spear,
bhosts of slain,
heaps of corpses,
dead bodies without end—
they stumble over the bodies!
4 And all for the countless whorings of the aprostitute,
bgraceful and of deadly charms,
who betrays nations with her whorings,
and peoples with her charms.
5 aBehold, I am against you,
declares the Lord of hosts,
and bwill lift up your skirts over your face;
and I will make nations look at cyour nakedness
and kingdoms at your shame.
6 I will throw filth at you
and atreat you with contempt
and make you ba spectacle.
7 And all who look at you awill shrink from you and say,
“Wasted is bNineveh; cwho will grieve for her?”
dWhere shall I seek comforters for you?
8 aAre you better than bThebes
that sat cby the Nile,
with water around her,
her rampart a sea,
and water her wall?
9 aCush was her strength;
Egypt too, and that without limit;
bPut and the cLibyans were her helpers.
10 aYet she became an exile;
she went into captivity;
bher infants were dashed in pieces
at the head of every street;
for her honored men clots were cast,
dand all her great men were bound in chains.
11 aYou also will be drunken;
you will go into hiding;
byou will seek a refuge from the enemy.
12 All your fortresses are alike fig trees
with first‑ripe figs—
if shaken they fall
into the mouth of the eater.
13 Behold, your troops
aare women in your midst.
The gates of your land
are wide open to your enemies;
fire has devoured your bars.
14 aDraw water for the siege;
bstrengthen your forts;
go into the clay;
tread the mortar;
take hold of the brick mold!
15 There will the fire devour you;
the sword will cut you off.
It will adevour you blike the locust.
Multiply yourselves blike the locust;
multiply blike the grasshopper!
16 You increased ayour merchants
more than the stars of the heavens.
bThe locust spreads its wings and flies away.
17 Your aprinces are blike grasshoppers,
cyour scribes like clouds of locusts
settling on the fences
in a day of cold—
when the sun rises, they fly away;
no one knows where they are.
18 Your shepherds aare asleep,
O king of Assyria;
byour nobles slumber.
Your people care scattered on the mountains
with none to gather them.
19 There is no easing your hurt;
ayour wound is grievous.
All who hear the news about you
bclap their hands over you.
For cupon whom has not come
your unceasing evil?