⁶ Pass over to Tarshish, howl, ye inhabitants of the isle,

¹² And He saith, `Thou dost not add any more to exult, O oppressed one, virgin daughter of Zidon, To Chittim arise, pass over, Even there -- there is no rest for thee.'

⁷ Therefore howl doth Moab for Moab, all of it doth howl, For the grape-cakes of Kir-Hareseth it meditateth, Surely they are smitten.

¹⁵ For from the face of destructions they fled, From the face of a stretched-out sword, And from the face of a trodden bow, And from the face of the grievousness of battle.

¹ 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 Be silent, ye inhabitants of the isle, Trader of Zidon, passing the sea, they filled thee.

¹⁰ Pass through thy land as a brook, Daughter of Tarshish, there is no more a girdle.