ISV(i)
17 Your imperial guards are like the swarming grasshopper; your marshals are like hordes of grasshoppers, settling in the stone walls on a chilly day. The sun rises, and they flee away; no one knows where they went.
18 Hey king of Assyria! Your shepherds are asleep and your nobles are lying down! Your people lie scattered on the mountains, and there is no one to gather them together.