¹⁷ Your guards are like grasshoppers,
            your marshals like swarms of cicadas
            that encamp on stone fences on a chilly day;
        when the sun rises, they take flight;
            no one knows where they have gone.
¹⁸ Your shepherds have fallen asleep, king of Assyria!
        Your officials are lying down.
Your people are scattered across the mountains;
        there is no one to gather them.
¹⁹ There is no remedy for your injury;
        your wound is grievous.
All who hear the news about you clap their hands over you.
        Who has not suffered from your continual cruelty?