Thomson(i)
1 [p] Woe is me! for I am like one picking up stalks in harvest, and like one gathering a gleaning at the vintage? Not a bunch of the first fruits is left for me to eat. Ah Woe is my life,
2 that the pious is perished from the land, and among men there is not an upright man left! [J] They are all indicted for capital crimes: they grievously afflict every man his neighbour:
3 they are preparing their hands for evil. The chief asketh and the judge hath spoken words of peace! He is entirely at his devotion;
4 therefore I will take away their good things, like a consuming moth advancing regularly in the clay of visitation. [p] Alas! alas! thy punishments are come; now will their lamentations be;"
5 Trust not in friends, nor confide in rulers, against the wife of thy bosom be on thy guard; to trust nothing to her: