And he said, My son shall not go down with you. For his brother is dead, and he is left alone. And if mischief should happen to him by the way you go, then you shall bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.
They say to their mothers, Where are grain and wine? In their fainting they are like the wounded in the streets of the city, in their pouring out their lives to their mothers' bosom.