7. They bray among the bushes; under the brambles they are gathered together:
8. Sons of fools, and sons of nameless sires, they are driven out of the land.
9. And now I am their song, yea, I am their byword.
10. They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, yea, they spare not to spit in my face.
11. For he hath loosed my cord and afflicted me; so they cast off the bridle before me.
12. At my right hand rise the young brood; they push away my feet, and raise up against me their pernicious ways;