10 Even she doth become an exile, She hath gone into captivity, Even her sucklings are dashed to pieces At the top of all out-places, And for her honoured ones they cast a lot, And all her great ones have been bound in fetters.
11 Even thou art drunken, thou art hidden, Even thou dost seek a strong place, because of an enemy.
12 All thy fortresses 'are' fig-trees with first-fruits, If they are shaken, They have fallen into the mouth of the eater.
13 Lo, thy people 'are' women in thy midst, To thine enemies thoroughly opened Have been the gates of thy land, Consumed hath fire thy bars.
14 Waters of a siege draw for thyself, Strengthen thy fortresses, Enter into mire, and tread on clay, Make strong a brick-kiln.
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