3 

O city soaked with blood!

crammed with lies and plunder

no end to your ravaging!

2 

Hark! the swish of the whip,

hark! the thunder of wheels,

horses a-gallop, chariots hurtling along,

3 

cavalry charging--the flash of the sword, the gleam of the lance,

the slain in heaps, dead bodies piled,

no end to the corpses--men tripping over the dead!

4 

And all for her harlotries so lavish,

the Harlot so handsome, a mistress of charms;

nations she lured with her harlotry,

and people she bewitched.

5 

“I attack you,” says the Lord of hosts,

“I will uncover your skirts to your face,

and expose you naked to nations

and bare to the kingdoms,

6 

to be pelted with filth and disgraced,

to stand as a butt for derision,

7 

till all who see you shrink away:

“Ruined is Nineveh,” they say,

“none to lament her;

where can we find her any consoling?”

8 

Will you fare better than No of Amon,

entrenched by the streams of the Nile,

with waters around her--

her rampart the Nile,

and waters her wall,

9 

Ethiopia and Egypt her strength,

Put and the Libyans her support?

10 

Yet she was exiled, she went away captive,

at every street corner her infants were dashed to the ground;

lots were cast for her leaders,

and all her nobles put in chains.

11 

So you too will stagger and swoon,

you too will fly for refuge from the foe;

12 

all your forts are but fig-trees--

your defenders the ripe figs--

shake them, they drop into the hungry mouth!

13 

The men inside you are but women!

Your bars are burned by fire,

the gates to your land fly open in front of your foe.

14 

Draw water for your siege,

strengthen your defences:

down with you to the mud,

trample the clay,

all hands to the brick-mould!

15 

But there will the fire devour you,

the sword will cut you down!

Multiply men like locusts,

multiply men like grasshoppers,

16 

let your traders be more than the stars of the heaven!--

yet locusts spread their wings,

17 

and your half-breeds are like locusts,

your officers like grasshoppers,

huddling in hedges when the day is cold,

and flying when the sun is up,

flying none knows where!

18 

Assyria, your rulers are asleep,

your lords slumber in death!

Your people are scattered all over the hills,

with none to rally them.

19 

You are shattered past repair,

wounded to death.

All who are told of you clap their hands over you;

for whom have you not wronged unceasingly?