²⁹ At the noise of the horsemen and bowmen, every city fleeth; they go into the thickets, and climb up upon the rocks: every city is forsaken and no man dwelleth therein.

³⁰ —And thou, wasted one, what wilt thou do? Though thou clothest thyself with crimson, though thou deckest thee with ornaments of gold, though thou rendest thine eyes with paint, in vain dost thou make thyself fair: [thy] lovers despise thee, they seek thy life.

³¹ For I hear a voice, as of a woman in travail, anguish as of her that bringeth forth her first child, the voice of the daughter of Zion: she moaneth, she spreadeth forth her hands, [saying], Woe unto me! for my soul faileth because of murderers.