CLXV
He shall be dragged out from his stronghold,
And he shall be brought to the king of terrors;[227]
The memory of him shall vanish from the earth,
He shall be driven from light into darkness.
CLXVI
He shall have nor son nor offspring among his people,
And he shall have no name above the ground;
None shall survive in his dwellings;
Strangers shall dwell in his tent.
CLXVII
They of the west are astonied at him,
And those of the east stand aghast:
Such are the dwellings of the wicked,
And this his place who knoweth not God.
CLXVIII
JOB:
How long will ye harrow my soul,
And crush me with words?
Already ten times have ye insulted me,
Ever incensing me anew.