Therefore, because of your trampling on the poor, And the tribute of corn ye take from him, Houses of hewn work ye have built, And ye do not dwell in them, Desirable vineyards ye have planted, And ye do not drink their wine.
On the evil `are' both hands to do `it' well, The prince is asking -- also the judge -- for recompence, And the great -- he is speaking the mischief of his soul, And they wrap it up.
His honour `is' a firstling of his ox, And his horns `are' horns of a reem; By them peoples he doth push together To the ends of earth; And they `are' the myriads of Ephraim, And they `are' the thousands of Manasseh.