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The comely and the delicate one I have cut off, The daughter of Zion.

Unto her come do shepherds and their droves, They have stricken tents by her round about, They have fed each [in] his own station.

Sanctify ye against her the battle, Rise, and we go up at noon. Wo to us, for turned hath the day, For stretched out are the shades of evening,

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