As arrows in the hand of a mighty one, So [are] the sons of the young men.
Sharp arrows of a mighty one, with broom-coals.
Sons' sons [are] the crown of old men, And the glory of sons [are] their fathers.
Her sons have risen up, and pronounce her happy, Her husband, and he praiseth her,
For, lo, I am stirring up, And am causing to come up against Babylon, An assembly of great nations from a land of the north, And they have set in array against her, From thence she is captured, Its arrow — as a skilful hero — returneth not empty,