⁷ Is this your joyous city, whose antiquity is of ancient days? her own feet shall carry her afar off to sojourn.

² Thou that art full of stirs, a tumultuous city, joyous city: thy slain men are not slain with the sword, nor dead in battle.

47 Come down, and sit in the dust, O virgin daughter of Babylon, sit on the ground: there is no throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans: for thou shalt no more be called tender and delicate.

² Take the millstones, and grind meal: uncover thy locks, make bare the leg, uncover the thigh, pass over the rivers.

¹³ Upon the land of my people shall come up thorns and briers; yea, upon all the houses of joy in the joyous city:

⁷ I have seen servants upon horses, and princes walking as servants upon the earth.