Geneva(i)
19 My bely, my bely, I am pained, euen at the very heart: mine heart is troubled within me: I cannot be still: for my soule hath heard the sounde of the trumpet, and the alarme of the battell.
20 Destruction vpon destruction is cryed, for the whole lande is wasted: suddenly are my tents destroyed, and my curtaines in a moment.
21 Howe long shall I see the standert, and heare the sounde of the trumpet?