¹⁷ Your ^(A)princes^[a] are ^(B)like grasshoppers,
    ^(C)your scribes^[b] like clouds of locusts
settling on the fences
    in a day of cold—
when the sun rises, they fly away;
    no one knows where they are.

¹⁸ Your shepherds ^(D)are asleep,
    O king of Assyria;
    ^(E)your nobles slumber.
Your people ^(F)are scattered on the mountains
    with none to gather them.
¹⁹ There is no easing your hurt;
    ^(G)your wound is grievous.
All who hear the news about you
    ^(H)clap their hands over you.
For ^(I)upon whom has not come
    your unceasing evil?