Thou hast set up his foes' right hand; mad'st all his en'mies glad:
Thou makest us a strife unto our neighbours round about; Our enemies among themselves at us do laugh and flout.
How long take counsel in my soul, still sad in heart, shall I? How long exalted over me Shall be mine enemy?
The boar who from the forest comes doth waste it at his pleasure; The wild beast of the field also devours it out of measure.