¹⁷ Your guards are like locusts,^(A)
    your officials like swarms of locusts
    that settle in the walls on a cold day—
but when the sun appears they fly away,
    and no one knows where.

¹⁸ King of Assyria, your shepherds^[a] slumber;^(B)
    your nobles lie down to rest.^(C)
Your people are scattered^(D) on the mountains
    with no one to gather them.
¹⁹ Nothing can heal you;^(E)
    your wound is fatal.
All who hear the news about you
    clap their hands^(F) at your fall,
for who has not felt
    your endless cruelty?^(G)