Down to Sheol your pomp is brought, the sound of your harps. Maggots are the couch beneath you, worms your blanket.”
Alike they lie down in the dust, and worms cover them both.
You who were full of noise, tumultuous city, exultant town? Your slain are not slain with the sword, nor killed in battle.
Therefore Sheol enlarges its throat and opens its mouth beyond measure; Down into it go nobility and masses, tumult and revelry.
They shall be like a garment eaten by moths, like wool consumed by grubs; But my victory shall remain forever, my salvation, for all generations.
They shall go out and see the corpses of the people who rebelled against me; For their worm shall not die, their fire shall not be extinguished; and they shall be an abhorrence to all flesh.
I will bring an end to the noise of your songs; the music of your lyres will be heard no more.