How is she become as a widow—once great among the nations!
The queen of the lands, how is she become a slave!
She weepeth sore in the night, and her tears are on her cheeks.
Of all that loved her she hath none to comfort her,
All her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they are become her enemies.
She dwelleth among the heathens, she findeth no rest,
All her persecutors overtake her at the borders.
The ways of Zion mourn because no man comes to the solemn feasts;
All her gates are desolate, her priests sigh,
Her virgins are afflicted and are in bitterness.