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17 Thy crowned ones are as the locusts, and thy captains as the great grasshoppers, which camp in the hedges in the cold day; but when the sun ariseth they flee away, and their place is not knownwhere they are.

18 Thy shepherds slumber, O king of Assyria; thy nobles shall dwell in the dust; thy people are scattered upon the mountains, and no man gathereth them.

19 There is no healing of thy bruise; thy wound is grievous. All that hear the report of thee shall clap the hands over thee. For upon whom hath not thy wickedness passed continually?

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