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Pass ye over to Tarshish; howl, ye inhabitants of the isle.

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

Who has decreed this against Tyre, the crowning city, whose merchants were princes, whose traders were the honourable of the earth?

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Cross over to Tarshish;(A)
    wail, you people of the island.
Is this your city of revelry,(B)
    the old, old city,
whose feet have taken her
    to settle in far-off lands?
Who planned this against Tyre,
    the bestower of crowns,
whose merchants(C) are princes,
    whose traders(D) are renowned in the earth?

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