YLT(i)
8 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.
9 Cush her might, and Egypt, and there is no end. Put and Lubim have been for thy help.
10 Even she doth become an exile, She hath gone into captivity, Even her sucklings are dashed to pieces At the top of all out-places, And for her honoured ones they cast a lot, And all her great ones have been bound in fetters.