And one went out into the field to gather herbs, and found a wild vine, and gathered thereof wild gourds his lap full, and came and shred them into the pot of pottage: for they knew them not.

His archers compass me round about, he cleaveth my reins asunder, and doth not spare; he poureth out my gall upon the ground.

They bow themselves, they bring forth their young ones, they cast out their sorrows.

Our bones are scattered at the grave's mouth, as when one cutteth and cleaveth wood upon the earth.

Till a dart strike through his liver; as a bird hasteth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for his life.