She is empty, and void, and waste. And the heart melts, and the knees smite together, and anguish is in all loins, and the faces of them all have grown pale.
And they shall be dismayed. Pangs and sorrows shall take hold. They shall be in pain as a woman in travail. They shall look in amazement one at another, their faces, faces of flame.
Ask ye now, and see whether a man travails with child. Why do I see every man with his hands on his loins as a woman in travail, and all faces are turned into paleness?
Where is the den of the lions, and the feeding-place of the young lions, where the lion [and] the lioness walked, the lion's whelp, and none made them afraid?