[1] The burden of Tyre. Howl, ye ships of Tarshish; for it is laid waste, so that there is no house, no entering in: from the land of Chittim it is revealed to them. [2] Be still, ye inhabitants of the isle; thou whom the merchants of Zidon, that pass over the sea, have replenished. [3] And by great waters the seed of Sihor, the harvest of the river, is her revenue; and she is a mart of nations. [4] Be thou ashamed, O Zidon: for the sea hath spoken, even the strength of the sea, saying, I travail not, nor bring forth children, neither do I nourish up young men, nor bring up virgins. [5] As at the report concerning Egypt, so shall they be sorely pained at the report of Tyre. [6] Pass ye over to Tarshish; howl, ye inhabitants of the isle. [7] Is this your joyous city, whose antiquity is of ancient days? her own feet shall carry her afar off to sojourn.