leveling the cities, each one casting the stones onto every fertile field and filling it, stopping up every spring, felling every fruit tree, until only the stones of Kir-hareseth remained. Then the slingers surrounded and attacked it.
My heart cries out for Moab, his fugitives reach Zoar, Eglath-shelishiyah: The ascent of Luhith they ascend weeping; On the way to Horonaim they utter rending cries;
Look down from heaven and regard us from your holy and glorious palace! Where is your zealous care and your might, your surge of pity? Your mercy hold not back!
My body! my body! how I writhe! The walls of my heart! My heart beats wildly, I cannot be still; For I myself have heard the blast of the horn, the battle cry.