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30 But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.

Yea, whereto [should] the strength of their hands [profit] me, [men] in whom vigour hath perished?

Withered up through want and hunger, they flee into waste places long since desolate and desert:

They gather the salt-wort among the bushes, and the roots of the broom for their food.

They are driven forth from among [men]—they cry after them as after a thief—

To dwell in gloomy gorges, in caves of the earth and the rocks:

They bray among the bushes; under the brambles they are gathered together:

Sons of fools, and sons of nameless sires, they are driven out of the land.

And now I am their song, yea, I am their byword.

10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, yea, they spare not to spit in my face.

11 For he hath loosed my cord and afflicted me; so they cast off the bridle before me.

12 At [my] right hand rise the young brood; they push away my feet, and raise up against me their pernicious ways;

13 They mar my path, they set forward my calamity, without any to help them;

14 They come in as through a wide breach: amid the confusion they roll themselves onward.

15 Terrors are turned against me; they pursue mine honour as the wind; and my welfare is passed away like a cloud.

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