<p class="poetry">The many nations massing together are as good as dead,<n id="1" />p> <p class="poetry">those who make a commotion as loud as the roaring of the sea&#8217;s waves.<n id="2" />p> <p class="poetry">The people making such an uproar are as good as dead,<n id="3" />p> <p class="poetry">those who make an uproar as loud as the roaring of powerful waves.<n id="4" />p>

<p class="poetry">Look, the sovereign master<n id="1" /> sends a strong, powerful one.<n id="2" />p> <p class="poetry">With the force of a hailstorm or a destructive windstorm,<n id="3" />p> <p class="poetry">with the might of a driving, torrential rainstorm,<n id="4" />p> <p class="poetry">he will knock that crown<n id="5" /> to the ground with his hand.<n id="6" />p>

Now the <sc>Lordsc> makes this announcement: &#8220;Within exactly three years<n id="1" /> Moab&#8217;s splendor will disappear, along with all her many people; there will be just a few, insignificant survivors left.&#8221;<n id="2" />p>