For Heshbon was the city of Sihon, king of the Amorites, who had fought against the former king of Moab and had taken all his land from him as far as the Arnon.
Your neck like a tower of ivory; your eyes, pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bath-rabbim. Your nose like the tower of Lebanon that looks toward Damascus.
Moab’s glory is no more. In Heshbon they plot evil against her: “Come! We will put an end to her as a nation.” You, too, Madmen, shall be silenced; you the sword stalks!
In Heshbon’s shadow the fugitives stop short, exhausted; For fire blazes up from Heshbon, and flames up from the house of Sihon: It consumes the forehead of Moab, the scalp of the noisemakers.
Israel has dwelt in Heshbon and its villages, Aroer and its villages, and all the cities on the banks of the Arnon for three hundred years. Why did you not recover them during that time?