17. Your leaders are like grasshoppers,your commanders like swarms of locusts,which camp in the hedges on a cold day;when the sun rises they fly away,and the place where they are is not known.
18. Your shepherds slumber, O king of Assyria;Your nobles lie in the dust.Your people are scattered on the mountains,and no one gathers them.
19. There is no healing of your injury,your wound is grievous.All who hear news about youclap their hands over you,for upon whom has not your wickednesscontinually passed?