^{12 Ref} For breasts they are lamenting, For fields of desire, for the fruitful vine.

^{13 Ref} Over the ground of my people thorn -- brier goeth up, Surely over all houses of joy of the exulting city,

^{14 Ref} Surely the palace hath been left, The multitude of the city forsaken, Fort and watch-tower hath been for dens unto the age, A joy of wild asses -- a pasture of herds;