Thomson(i)
9 thou wilt shelter me from the face of the wicked who afflict me. These enemies of mine beset my soul:
10 they shut up their fat; their mouth spoke proudly.
11 Having driven me out they now enclosed me. They set their eyes inclining to the ground.
12 They observed me, like a lion eager for prey, and like a young lion lurking in coverts.
13 Arise, Lord, prevent them and cause them to stumble. Deliver my soul from the wicked: wrest thy sword