And said unto the king, Let the king live forever: why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers’ sepulchers, lies waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire?
Therefore you shall say this word unto them; Let my eyes run down with tears night and day, and let them not cease: for the virgin daughter of my people is smitten with a great wound, with a very grievous blow.
As for me, I have not hastened from being a shepherd to follow you: neither have I desired the woeful day; you know: that which came out of my lips was right before you.
My soul, my soul! I am pained at my very heart; my heart makes a noise in me; I cannot hold my peace, because you have heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.
She is empty, and void, and waste: and the heart melts, and the knees strike together, and much pain is on all sides, and the faces of them all grow pale.