1-3. “Get off your high horse and sit in the dirt,virgin daughter of Babylon.No more throne for you—sit on the ground,daughter of the Chaldeans.Nobody will be calling you ‘charming’and ‘alluring’ anymore. Get used to it.Get a job, any old job:Clean gutters, scrub toilets.Hock your gowns and scarves,put on overalls—the party’s over.Your nude body will be on public display,exposed to vulgar taunts.It’s vengeance time, and I’m taking vengeance.No one gets let off the hook.”
14-15. “Fat chance. You’d be grasping at strawsthat are already in the fire,A fire that is even now raging.Your ‘experts’ are in it and won’t get out.It’s not a fire for cooking venison stew,not a fire to warm you on a winter night!That’s the fate of your friends in sorcery, your magician buddiesyou’ve been in cahoots with all your life.They reel, confused, bumping into one another.None of them bother to help you.”