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.
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.
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.
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.
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?