^{1 Ref} The Burden of Tyre. Howl, ye ships of Tarshish, For it hath been destroyed, Without house, without entrance, From the land of Chittim it was revealed to them.

^{2 Ref} Be silent, ye inhabitants of the isle, Trader of Zidon, passing the sea, they filled thee.

^{3 Ref} And in many waters `is' the seed of Sihor, The harvest of the brook `is' her increase, And she is a mart of nations.

^{4 Ref} Be ashamed, O Zidon; for the sea spake, The strength of the sea, saying: `I have not been pained, nor have I brought forth, Nor have I nourished young men, `nor' brought up virgins.'

^{5 Ref} As `at' the report of Egypt they are pained, So `at' the report of Tyre.

^{6 Ref} Pass over to Tarshish, howl, ye inhabitants of the isle,

^{7 Ref} Is this your exulting one? From the days of old `is' her antiquity, Carry her do her own feet afar off to sojourn.