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And it hath come to pass, Each of thy beholders fleeth from thee, And hath said: `Spoiled is Nineveh, Who doth bemoan for her?' Whence do I seek comforters for thee?

Art thou better than No-Ammon, That is dwelling among brooks? Waters she hath round about her, Whose bulwark [is] the sea, waters her wall.

Cush her might, and Egypt, and there is no end. Put and Lubim have been for thy help.

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