^{27 Ref} Thy wealth and thy remnants, Thy merchandise, thy mariners, And thy pilots, strengtheners of thy breach, And the traders of thy merchandise, And all thy men of war, who `are' in thee, And in all thine assembly that `is' in thy midst, Fall into the heart of the seas in the day of thy fall,

^{28 Ref} At the voice of the cry of thy pilots shake do the suburbs.

^{29 Ref} And come down from their ships have all handling an oar, Mariners, all the pilots of the sea, on the land they stand,

^{30 Ref} And have sounded for thee with their voice, And cry bitterly, and cause dust to go up on their heads, In ashes they do roll themselves.

^{31 Ref} And they have made for thee baldness, And they have girded on sackcloth, And they have wept for thee, In bitterness of soul -- a bitter mourning.

^{32 Ref} And lifted up for thee have their sons a lamentation, And they have lamented over thee, who `is' as Tyre? As the cut-off one in the midst of the sea?